Fickle Destinies
by courierhawk
Summary: A woman from the Water Tribe is spirited away after a raid on her home, drawing the eye of a certain Prince while her people retaliate for their loss, and seize a ship carrying a certain Lady of Fire. Years later, two Water Tribe siblings find a boy locked in ice after a young Prince of Fire leaves his home to win acceptance. Good or ill, they are sure to cross paths. Role-swap AU
1. Otherworld Lady

_Full Summary: A young woman from the Southern Water Tribe finds herself spirited away in yet another raid upon her homeland, catching the fancy of a certain Prince whose hand offers the only chance for escape from her prison. In another place, Chief Hakoda's corsairs retaliate furiously for the loss of their people, and in their zeal seize upon the escort vessel belonging to a noble Lady of Fire, the very woman arranged to be wed to a Fire Nation Prince._

 _Years later, a pair of Water Tribe siblings stumble upon a boy encased in ice who may just be their greatest hope and find their destinies inexorably changed. Meanwhile, a young untested Prince takes his sister's blessing and departs on a quest to win the respect long denied to him. They are certain to cross paths, but for good or ill is yet unknown._

 _A/N: This story is not comic compliant. Ursa is assumed to be ranked or nobility instead of a commoner._

* * *

 _Otherworld Lady_

* * *

It starts like this: black skies above white tundra amid shouting and panic, waking Kya from her slumber and drawing her outside where the warriors were already gathering for a fight.

The black ships approached across the horizon, heavy with soldiers armed with fire and blade, a sight that the Water Tribe knew well and despised. Every time time the ships came to the southern shore, some of the villagers went with them, either in chains to an unknown destination, or to the cold embrace of eternal sleep. The warriors and their ferocious pride preferred the latter option, and if any waterbenders had been left in their home to take, they would say the same. Death was understandable, and in the grand scheme of things inevitable, but no one wanted to know what the Fire Nation would do to those they spirited away.

The raids never came with any predictable regularity; they could arrive twice in the span of a few months, or disappear for several years without a single attack.

Fortunately, the Southern Water Tribe was not helpless, even without the boon of their waterbenders. Water Tribe ships far outstripped the Fire Nation in speed and maneuverability, dashing around the dark ships and dropping slime bombs with pinpoint accuracy, stopping up engines in the cold water. Yet it took so many strikes to down a single one of the metal monoliths that the speedier boats had their hands busy taking down one, leaving their brethren to make for the shore unhindered. Kya could only savor the short-lived satisfaction of one of the metal vessels tipping backward and spilling its passengers into the brine, creaking loudly as the rest of them finally made landfall.

Firebenders stormed the frozen shore, meeting with the warriors over the first rise, and the loud clang of clashing spears and the roar of flames reached Kya even from the entrance to her home. She was no warrior; no woman from the Water Tribe was, but that didn't stop her from drawing a long carving knife out from her supplies and holding it close in a stiff grip. Nothing but a knife made for food preparation, but the young woman held it in both hands like it was one of her tribe's sturdy war clubs. She'd never fought a day in her life, not with a blade in her hands and certainly not with the blessing of water which she lacked, yet the threat of enemy soldiers on her doorsteps made details like those cease to matter.

Kya didn't have the opportunity to steel herself though, when a pair of armored Fire Nation fighters blasted apart the back wall of the igloo and stomped inside. Running off of nothing but adrenaline and raw desperation, Kya turned on her heels and lunged with her knife, aiming for the chink in the armor in the soldiers' necks.

She was, humiliatingly, batted aside.

In hindsight, an inexperienced young woman with a kitchen knife was never a match for a pair of trained firebenders, especially when she lacked the element of surprise. The blade clattered away, and when she tried to catch it, one of the soldiers kicked the handle out of reach into the snow. Kya tried to scramble away, only to be grabbed and pushed against the far wall, expecting any second now to be charred to dust on the floor of her own home. "Well you don't see that every day," A surprisingly feminine voice sounded from beneath the helm, and a gauntlet-covered hand moved aside the mask to reveal a woman no older that Kya herself with sharp brown eyes. "A Water Tribe lady trying to attack us?" The Fire Nation woman gave a derisive snort, "it's such a change of pace it almost makes this stupid trip worth the time."

Kya felt her lips harden into a thin line without realizing, because for all that she lacked the power of a bender, there was still the icy determination of Southern Water Tribe that the Fire Nation couldn't burn away. Even if she was destined to die here, they would hear her before she did, "There is nothing for you here. There are no more waterbenders for you to steal and no resources to make your own."

"Pretty _and_ mouthy. This one's something else," The soldier's companion muttered, his voice a low, harsh grumble. The first paid no attention to him, but her face tightened in annoyance and fingers flickered with fire, causing Kya to instinctively stiffen her posture and eye the flames.

Realizing that she may be facing the last moments of her life, Kya spoke out once more, "What do you want from us? There's nothing for you to gain by doing this." Despite the intensity of her gaze, she was calm, measured even. Still, in spite of that, the female firebender was clearly losing her patience.

"No place for us? Ha, you think the captain cares about little details like that? What _matters_ is that we don't leave empty-handed. And guess what," The woman yanked Kya forward by her braid and pushed her towards the hole they made in the wall, "you've just volunteered!"

Kya struggled, her howl of desperation blotted out by the sound of clashing blades and fire blasts; the fire crowded her out. Shaking and desperate from the realization of what was happening to her, Kya dug in her heels and resisted, even as the maw of the metal ship gaped open above her.

It instilled a fear she didn't even know she possessed, but when recognized, would not recede.

No tribesman belonged there, in the dark, away from the wide open snow fields, the icy slopes, the moon.

Her feet slipped as snow gave way to smooth metal, cold to the touch in an alien, unfamiliar way that was so different from the world she knew and it made her shiver the way snow never would. The world which was quickly slipping away. She caught a brief glance of more Water Tribe ships approaching in the distance-reinforcements outnumbering the Fire Nation navy but a minute too late to save her-before her gaze was tugged away. The walkway tilted up as she was dragged into the dark corridor, and the view of the soot-speckled sky behind her thinned to no more than a sliver, and then disappeared altogether.

They left her in a dank, tiny cell, without even a guard's acidic company to cut through the silence. There would be no going back now.

Kya wilted for but a moment, before straightening her stature. She was scared of the future, but she would not bend, would not cower. The Water Tribe never thawed before the flame.

* * *

The Southern Water Tribe had driven away the Fire Nation, but they were not victorious.

Like so many other raids in recent years, the black ships struck fiercely and then turned around and fled the instant the bulk of the fleet arrived. Even though the south had lost much of their once-impressive power over the decades, the naval force was more than a match for a relatively small raiding attack, and the Fire Nation was well aware of that fact. The Tribe could chase them down still, attempt to cause some real loss, but first priority always went to the wounded and the damage inflicted upon the village.

But though most of the injury against their tribe was limited to nonlethal wounds-though the healers would be busy with treating those for some weeks-there was one exception.

There was a half-circle of gathered warriors kneeling around a crumpled body in the snow, the gray of the fallen man's hair and beard strewn across the snow, his trembling hands still clutching his ornamented spear. Two red-clad bodies lay beside him motionless on the ground, permanently punished for their trespass. Even now the old Chief lived, but the blackened, bloody hole in his chest and faltering rattle of his breath left no doubt as to his inevitable fate. The Chief would be dead before he saw his next morning.

His Second, a mild warrior with ice blue eyes, laid his knuckles on the man's wrist in respect as the elder faded into unconsciousness, too exhausted and fading to stay awake any longer as the ice numbed the pain before the end. Hakoda pulled his hand away, assuring their lost leader as he slipped away, "You have fought with bravery and strength, my Chief. May you finally find peace in the next world." He slowly eased the elegant spear from cooling, slack hands and rose to his feet, the rest of the warriors watching in respectful silence and eyes cast down.

Hakoda turned and presented the spear to Kanna as she approached, and even without seeing the body or the blood tainting the white snow red, the meaning of the gesture was clear.

Kanna wasn't one to mince words or hesitate; she gave the Chief's weapon and the gathered tribesmen a slow, mournful look, and then began to direct them to prepare funeral raft to send the man to his final journey. The wounded and those too weakened to work were directed back to their homes to treat their wounds and rest. Kanna left to gather the rest of the elders to convene upon their next Chief, spear clasped in front of her like an offering, and that would be last Hakoda would see her until the final decision was made.

He had suspected that was the end of it; that now was a period of mourning and rebuilding before they could all stand tall and proud again, shoulder to shoulder like the warriors they were. And yet, the shroud of dread still hung over him; a hammer that had yet to drop.

Hakoda's concerns were confirmed a moment later when Bato came running up to him from the village, a look of alarm that sent his settling calm crumbling in an instant. The other man clasped him by the shoulder and jerked him back away from the blackened battlefield, insistent and uncompromising, no different from his voice "There's something you need to see." And if those words weren't enough to unnerve him, being led to a familiar igloo on the far side of the village certainly was, eyes straying to the cloth flap torn from the doorway and strewn across the snow-ripped away by a desperate hand.

' _Kya…'_

Hakoda didn't want to see what was on the other side. But he didn't have a choice in the end.

When his friend released him, Hakoda entered the igloo under his own power, plucking a carving knife from the ground as he did, fallen there as though knocked from a hand. He'd seen many weapons lost in much the same way in the heat of battle. He clenched his fingers tightly around the tool and cast his gaze to the ruined back wall of the igloo, blasted open by a combination of heat and force, and the fading footprints beyond it leading to the icy shore.

Hands brushing across scuff marks in the floor and the melting ice puddling in the rear, he could see in his mind's eye exactly what had happened, clear as if by witness.

The soldiers, forcing their way into the little home with fire and violence, and Kya who was knocked away from a wild charge with only an improvised weapon. There was signs of a struggle, but no blood-no, no body…. She was taken away.

Hakoda knelt there before the gaping hole, knife laid in his lap, and felt the pain settle over him like a shroud.

He remembered watching her across the fire, stewing over the feelings he never had the courage to face, while Bato nudged him in the arm, told him to just go for it with an encouraging smile. But he never had the chance to say anything.

For a while, Hakoda couldn't work up the will to react, to voice the sick pain churning in him. Even when his friend knelt by his side in a duly comforting silence, or when the elders came to retrieve them to hear their verdict. A despairing Kanna at their head who'd come to the same realization he had, taking Hakoda into an embrace as she shook with silent tears, needing comfort for the loss of another southern daughter. But when the elegantly carved spear was passed into his hands and the tribesmen dipped their heads in respect of his new station, Hakoda began to understand exactly what emotion he was feeling the most, and the one most insistent for his attention: anger.

The Southern Water Tribe had suffered the cruelties of the Fire Nation for too long, and simply surviving was no longer enough. His sharp mind and roiling pain rallied them, a people no longer content to wait for the black snow to come.

That was the day the South moved to war and destinies were irrevocably shifted.

* * *

Far from the South, the conflicts on the battlefront, a young woman of a noble lineage lived a bloodless life, and would-if luck had allowed it-never see the horrors of war or the crimes of those who perpetuated it. She had lived her lived within the confines of the Fire Nation and the beliefs that permeated her culture since she was small; so even blinded, Ursa's loyalty was genuine.

That the Fire Nation was the greatest culture in the world, she believed this.

That one day they would grow to spread their insight to the world, she also believed.

That she _knew_ this, like so many other Fire Nation citizens did, was not uncommon. History is often written by the victorious and few who lived within the nation's borders who were not wronged thought otherwise. The sense of superiority, like a pall, settled over the masses educated to believe so, and overshadowed those who were not. The Fire Nation ran on its efficiency, its order; and favor always went to the royal family first.

Ursa, clad in her world of peace and noble blood, shared this _truth_ and rarely doubted. With a bloodline directly traced from Avatar Roku, she was coveted for her pedigree, for whatever power and prestige she was thought to pass down to her children. Inevitably, Fire Lord Azulon extended an offer to her family for an arranged marriage between her and one of his sons, and even with the generous dowry, it was obviously an invitation she didn't have the right to refuse. Ursa did not know either of the princes very well, only that the deal was already neatly wrapped up, without her input. Though between royalty, it was not an unusual arrangement; Ursa accepted this with a layer of disappointment and calm resignation.

The word arrived that the seas were too fraught with pirate activity to send the royal family, so a guarded vessel was sent to see her onward. The decorated escort barge docked at the shore of her home months after the initial marriage offer, final preparations for the treaties and dowry finally settled, gilded ship flanked by two battleships waiting patiently in the bay.

As her belongings were loaded onto the vessel, the captain warned her that she was to hide below deck if they were attacked.

But the war was distant to her, like a story told from long ago, rather than something still taking place within her lifetime. Never did Ursa expect to see combat, or the effects of something she only heard about from others, but although ignorance can be also bliss, her lack of knowledge and emotional distance would not protect her.

So when the rogue ships ambushed her escort vessel, she no longer knew what to do. Her life, though contained and small, was not one of uncertainty. Only her first glimpse of battle made her wonder, and the sight of elegant, unmarked cutters skirt the wake of a Fire Nation barge shook her safe little world for the first time.

Too far away to be struck by firebending and too fast to succumb to trebuchet, the corsairs pelted the port battleship with sludge-filled bombs that made the engine sputter and groan, a sign that even Fire Nation engineering was not invincible.

Ursa did not get the chance to see any more, as the captain shepherded her below decks to conceal herself, now much less calm than before. She took the stairs two at a time at the man's rushed directions, her elegance faltering as she stumbled on the rough paneling. Descending further into the ship, Ursa huddled in the cargo hold, listening to the escalating sounds of combat, explosions signifying rushed firebending filling the air.

Eventually, the clamor faded away, and Ursa dared to hope it was over.

Then, breaking the fragile lull of silence, the sound of booted steps alerted her to the presence of someone coming her way. Ursa-in spite of her panic-did not for one second expect the might of the Fire Nation to fall to pirates, so she clambered to her feet instead of concealing herself. Only when the door flew open did she regret her decision.

The man standing in the doorway was not Fire Nation; in fact, his clothes were so incredibly distinctive in fur lining and navy blue dye that no one within the Fire Nation were likely to wear it. And before her eyes, he pulled the leather half-mask from his face and brushed aside tangled hair to reveal a set of icy blue eyes made even more intense against his dark complexion, and Ursa found herself frozen in place by his gaze. The man's expression softened a little when he noticed her, and his grip around his jagged spear loosened, tilting the blade away but not releasing it.

Trying not to show weakness, Ursa straightened up, poised and dignified in the face of a threat the way she should be. Staying strong, she spoke out to the invader, "I don't know what you wanted here. We don't have any treasures on this ship for you to steal. You're better off leaving immediately."

The warrior stared at her, and for a moment Ursa thought he wasn't going to answer. Then unexpectedly, he quirked his mouth, seeming almost...amused?

"Your boat is sinking, miss."

Dignity faltering, Ursa was almost embarrassed by how he threw her off, "What? Then...the crew?" She would have moved out to the deck to check if he wasn't still standing in her way.

"I didn't keep track of them all, but the captain threw himself on his sword. I didn't destroy the lifeboats, so they should be evacuating, if they have any sense left in their heads." There was no malice in his voice, or cruel lingering in the delivery, but the sense of distance she'd felt for so long still made the words feel unreal. "Normally, a Water Tribe warrior doesn't go scrounging through Fire Nation cargo, but the captain did have this on his person…" The man drew a handful of parchment out of the folds of his tunic marked with distinctive calligraphy, an ink-stamp in the shape of the Fire Nation insignia. They were Ursa's marriage papers, the set delivered to her home that she had read to her but never touched. Proof of her lineage and fate in the hands of her country's enemy.

He dropped them carelessly from his hands and left them where they lay, but the undone tie shown they had already been read, and from the pointed look the warrior gave her, there was no doubt he knew what they meant.

"What are you going to do with me, then? Ransom the royal family for my safe return?"

Her question brought a hardness to his face, but not-surprisingly-anger, "You really don't know anything about the war, do you?" She wasn't given the opportunity to answer that question before the Water Tribe warrior lowered his spear completely, an opening a soldier would have taken advantage of, but one that Ursa didn't know what to do with. "You're mistaken, we don't care about money and…" His voice faltered for a moment, only to return tightened with strain, "and _my people_ don't harm noncombatants."

The unspoken accusation of ' _unlike yours'_ was heavy between them. Ursa averted her eyes first.

The rumble of the ship broke the silence and he stepped back through the doorway with one arm set in a gesture to follow. Ursa went willingly, not seeing the point in fighting him now that the battle was already over, and held her head up high with all the dignity a prisoner could muster, even if he hadn't used the word. She spared a glance to the horizon, where the lifeboats were just barely visible and fit to bursting with the remaining crew from the scuttled ships, before arriving at the gangplank.

Even distracted by her situation, Ursa still caught the respectful gaze directed at the man in front of her from other warriors on the ship, and the almost inaudible acknowledgement of 'Chief' from the helm.

He was their _leader_. Even so young, still.

Her strangely receptive captor gave her his hand to steady herself over the unstable boards, and Ursa almost couldn't suppress the chuckle building in her throat; a gentleman, even to someone who should be his enemy.

The apparent Chief led her into a small, simple cabin and stepped away, "Only the best for the Avatar's granddaughter, right?" Was he joking? Yes, he really was. Ursa stifled another involuntary noise; she wasn't used to this kind of attitude. "I have to leave you now. If you have any other questions for me, knock on the door and ask for Chief Hakoda."

Ursa processed that name, memorized it as intensely as bureaucrat's speech. But she interrupted him before he could leave, "Wait, at least tell me this now… What do you intend to do with me, if not kill or ransom me?"

Hakoda's lips twitched in a suggestion of a smile-somehow he seemed like the type who should smile often-and what he said next was almost painfully sincere, "I'm going to show you the world that your home wouldn't tell you about."

He left her then and Ursa collapsed on the cabin's lumpy cot, revising the world she knew, while Hakoda's parting words played over and over in her head.

Meanwhile, the barge Ursa left crumbled and sunk into the sea, her marriage papers gone with it.

* * *

For weeks the only thing Kya saw were the dull gray walls of her prison, the shifting groan of metal a constant companion after her capture, and the tight space drew up a disgust she never knew she had.

The Water Tribe were often at home on the sea, element strong in their blood even for the most inexperienced and unknowing sailors, but this was nothing like her people's' way. Poor circulation in the enclosed halls gave the air a rank smell that moppings could never really clean out-who knew if the firebenders could even smell it after being exposed to it for so long-and the solid walls trapped the humidity and uncomfortable warmth inside with her to smolder.

But the worst of all was the claustrophobia, the sensation of nowhere to go, nowhere to move, walls pressing in around her. The South didn't have prisons and the greatest punishment was lone exile into the wastes; she had no way to prepare for this, and the only thing she could do to assuage the panic just beneath the surface was to think of anything else. Trapped in the darkness, Kya calmed her mind and occupied herself by thinking up imaginary backstories for the guards who brought her meals and cleaned her cell.

There was little else.

The guards provided her water and soap to clean with, which Kya did only enough to prevent herself from getting sick. It warded the guards off from interacting with her for the most part, which suited her just fine, and gave Kya more time to think away from them. She picked at the dull red tunic and pants the raiders gave her after her parka grew heavy with dirt and grime. They gave little attention to her, but Kya understood enough; she was just a message to be delivered: that the Fire Nation didn't consider her important, she was just proof that they never left empty-handed.

She wanted to go home; at the very least, to escape this cage. But the question was how.

The answer came in the form of the warming climate, the scent of spice drifting through the scant fresh air she got, and the sound of waves slapping against a harbor. She had arrived in Fire Nation proper.

The soldiers seemed eager to get her off the ship, clapping her in tough irons and pulling her down the lowered gangplank, while Kya did her best to stay upright in the bustle of the crowded dock and shake the tangled hair out of her eyes. The sun was blinding bright in a sky of scarce clouds and the spice was heavier than ever in the air, carried on the wind. Everywhere she looked was painted in shades of flame, intense enough to hurt her eyes from so long in the dull grey hold. In the distance, a monolithic statue of a Fire Lord stood overlooking the east; Kya wondered at their gall and arrogance in such a creation.

But as the soldiers exited the ship with her, another larger vessel was pulling into dock alongside it, worn in places from unknown damage but elegant and trimmed with golden decor. All activity along the dock seemed to freeze. As the massive ship opened up civilians were shooed off the harbor-side and those that remained fell into low bows.

Even from her awkward position, Kya could see the gleaming armor of this new entourage as they stamped in organized file into view. And beyond them, as the plated shoulders parted, strode a man with smoldering yellow eyes and topknot secured with a golden, royal ornament.

Before she could see any more, the raiders yanked her down into a bow next to them, and she reflexively shouted in pain as their grip wound tight around her arms.

When she gathered the courage to look up again, the golden-eyed man in his crimson finery was staring directly at her, boring holes directly into her eyes. His inspection was fierce and predatory, like the dark gaze of a seal-leopard on the ice, just before it sunk its teeth into its prey. Yet there was curiosity and interest there as well, and even after averting her eyes, the weight of his stare was heavy upon her.

Eventually he turned away when called though the feeling lingered, and one of his envoy said in a stiff voice, "The Fire Lord requests your report on your search, my Lord." He sniffed derisively and turned as the guards surrounding Kya pulled her up and away from where a beautiful covered litter was brought to ferry the man away, and she couldn't help but feel relieved by his absence.

Without ceremony, the soldiers escorted her up winding roads to the city proper, giving her a sprawling view of mountainous slopes devoid of a single flake of snow. Homesickness like lead sunk into her soul.

On the border of the city was a towering structure Kya correctly assumed would be her prison, and her impatient escorts pulled her towards it. Called back to the capital for a report, the raiders decided they would leave her here out of convenience. She didn't speak to them, nor them to her. Once in the ship's hold, she had tried to interrogate them as to the fate of the rest of the stolen waterbenders but had been told nothing, except that she would never see them. An ordinary prison cell would be Kya's only reward for her endurance, deprived even of the chance to be shackled alongside her people.

Shepherded into a dark cell, Kya felt suddenly, unbearably exhausted. How far she'd been taken from home, the unfamiliar landscape, and the golden-eyed royal...all of these things together were too much to process at once. It sucked the energy right out of her.

Kya climbed onto the rough cot in the far end of the cell, and despite its uncomfortable lumpiness, fell asleep almost immediately.

She was rudely awoken the next day to the sound of booted feet tramping down the halls to her cell, and pushed herself up to sit just as the golden-eyed man from the other day stepped inside.

Nervous without really knowing why, Kya's shoulders tense and she straightened up against the wall, waiting in forced calm silence as the man began to speak. "So, you're the woman the Raiders took from the South. Not what I expected," Kya furrowed her brow at those words, staring at the floor instead of his face and wondered what he could mean by that. Instead of responding, she let the moment pass in silence. But she was taken aback by his next words to look up, "I am Prince Ozai, second son of Fire Lord Azulon."

The unspoken prompt was obvious, "Kya, of the Water Tribe."

The Prince-a shock that needed some time to process-gestured towards the barred door and a masked guard stepped in, carrying carved box, which was placed just inside her cell. "Call it a welcoming gift to the Fire Nation," Ozai told her, before departing with his guard, leaving the room feeling smaller in his wake.

Curiosity overtaking wariness, Kya pried open the wooden box to reveal a simple comb, yet one made from polished silver instead of bone or tin.

She put it down and pushed it to the far end of the cell, suspecting a trap or deception. No one in the Fire Nation would give her something like this without some ulterior motive. Yet, as the days passed in that dirty place, that gift proved to be far from the last, as the Prince's masked guards arrived every other day to present her with some trinket or another. The gifts couldn't have been worth anything to him, and may have even been easy to throw away on some Water Tribe woman, even if they were expensive in her eyes. Kya eventually did use the comb, if only not to look so pathetic when the man visited her again.

She'd been expecting a lie out of his actions, but was even more surprised with the knowledge that the most blatant answer was the right one. Kya had pleaded the soldiers guarding her cell for answers until the regular outside the bars finally cracked, admitting that he'd heard that the Prince was displaying an "interest" in her. But that he was also engaged to be married to another woman arriving in a little more than a month's time.

So that was it.

Kya may not have been versed in politics, but she did know men, and she knew now that the Prince's motives were far less complicated than she expected.

He was attracted to her, plain and simple, and wanted to play bachelor by plying her with trinkets in the last weeks before getting married. A distraction. Who could know why a high and mighty Prince would find allure in the primal South, but Kya suspected she'd learn when (not if) Ozai came for her again.

And he did come again, this time flanked by two guards, one of whom carried a thin, rectangular box under his arm. "It's been too long since our last meeting," he started, eyes pausing on her combed and braided hair before moving to unlock the gate to her cell. "You must be eager for a change after sitting in this unpleasant filth for so long."

Kya eased herself to her feet, one hand placed on the wall for support, and when she spoke her voice was calm and even. "What's to be done with me then? Have you tired of spoiling me, Prince Ozai?"

"On the contrary, Kya of the Water Tribe...I've come to extend an invitation to you."

"What?" The words didn't immediately register, and Kya looked up to find him smiling sharply.

"I've made arrangements for a room to be set aside in the palace for you. A cell ill fits a woman like you," He said this very bluntly, as though the truth in his words was obvious and undeniable. But as Ozai waited for a reply, Kya found she couldn't speak. Plying her with gifts was one thing, but breaking societal rules she _knew_ had to exist so suddenly just for personal interest was something else entirely. This man was a very dangerous kind of direct. Her lack of response seemed to displease him, gesturing at the package his guard carried, "Too stunned for words? I even had the seamstresses make something to replace those ugly rags."

"Aren't you engaged?" Kya asked numbly, forgetting for a moment that she shouldn't know that.

"And how did you know that? Loose-lipped guards spilling information? Not that it was a secret… Still, it hardly matters, my bride-to-be is still a month away and the palace is a much finer place to be than a cell." Kya frowned, knowing very distinctly what he would want from her, but also aware that cooperating was the best chance she had at freedom. "No? How about this...the day my fiance arrives in the capital, I will personally set you free."

On one hand, conceding to the Prince of the Fire Nation was not something she ever wanted to do, but just as she promised herself that first day on the Southern Raiders' battleship, Kya would not cower. She could use Ozai, bear the sacrifice for the sake of freedom.

Kya took the Prince's hand that day, and left the cold behind, not knowing she couldn't get it back.


	2. Nobility is Relative

_Nobility is Relative_

* * *

.

Being a passenger on a Water Tribe vessel was a very different experience from the Fire Nation escort, and though she was not bound or harassed, Ursa struggled to acclimate to the change.

The door on her cabin was not locked, though there was nowhere for her to escape to anyway; the boat was too cramped and streamlined to carry life-rafts and the constant bustling of the crew ensured that the tribesmen knew where she was at all times without the need for lock and key. But then, the Chief had probably known this when he'd given her that room, being the same man who'd ambushed and overpowered multiple Fire Nation ships meant he was not one to be easily fooled and subverted. She didn't think anyone could realistically overpower a battleship with a sailboat without a brain to even the difference.

Had she not known this–and the fact that Hakoda went out of his way to keep her alive and safe from harm, Ursa would have stayed in her room, if only to avoid the glares some of the crew tossed her way. The stew and fish they offered, though simple, weren't unpleasant and it was quieter inside. There was some appeal in staying silent and uninvolved.

But the sun was a welcome sight, and she kept on deck during the midday hours at least to soak up the radiance, even as their departure from the Fire Nation dampened its rays.

Sometimes she watched the crew, how there was never a moment's rest for them and the constant labor necessary to work ships without the rumbling coal engines. Many of them weren't fond of her and she didn't think it was wise to confront them for it, staying center deck to lessen the ship's dipping and rocking. From what Hakoda said before, his people had scars of their own.

But the most important times were when Chief Hakoda decided to meet with her.

There wasn't always time, between the other tribesmen and the management of the vessel–and it was interesting to see how much effort the Chief personally put into the workload, whether it was necessary or not–but in the quieter downtime, Ursa expected to hear from him. He was dangerous of course, confirmed to be an effective enemy of the Fire Nation. The loyalist in her wanted to rebel but was aware it wouldn't amount to anything, if only to deprive her of the sparse amenities Hakoda gave her. But she could learn a lot from him whether she chose to cooperate or not, and that was something she couldn't pass up.

But when the constant work lessened and he had some free time, Hakoda called her into the captain's quarters to talk in private.

The first time Hakoda questioned her, it wasn't much of a meeting. Just one question, "I suspect you won't know the answer to this, but I'm still going to ask…where are our missing waterbenders?" Ursa didn't know. Fire Lord Azulon's campaign against the southern waterbenders was a long and determined one that reached even her ears, but the fate of the long lost prisoners wasn't information that anyone but high military would know. Hakoda's face was tired and disappointed but he didn't seem surprised to hear it, and sent her away without any other questions.

The later meetings on the other hand, were far more animated.

Hakoda never pulled his punches unless there was strategy in it for him, and Ursa made no effort to hide her loyalty to her country unless she was physically endangered by it. Neither of these barriers breached, already the Chief's interrogations turned into debates that left her mind racing and exhausted. Verbal spars could be an interesting diversion for her in the right setting; it was too bad he was supposed to be an enemy.

He questioned her about everything and, as long as the subject matter was neutral and nonthreatening, Ursa answered him to the best of her ability. Talks on the Fire Nation military (there wasn't much she could say about that), political (constantly shifting though he had a better grasp of the royal family), and economics subjects (fairly harmless to talk to talk about) didn't cause much of a fuss between them. She tried to steer him away from geography as much as possible, but there wasn't much she could really give away without a map to use for reference.

She wanted to confront him directly about what he hoped to gain beyond the cryptic bit of nothing he'd given her earlier, but held herself back. Ursa would be stuck with this man for as long as he chose, so not making him angry was a good first step. Hakoda seemed mellow enough so far, but she hadn't had the chance to really know him yet.

It was when they made the mistake of talking about Fire Nation beliefs and ethics that she could feel his behavior beginning to shift.

Hakoda had laughed about the Fire Lord without a trace of respect ("poor Kanna would have a heart attack if I came home and declared myself a god!"), and finally Ursa had stood up and firmly asked if he thought this was some kind of a joke to him. It was like her words then caused a hidden dam to be finally broken inside him. The warrior surged to his feet fast enough for Ursa to reflexively take a step back; not once during their voyage until that one moment had she genuinely thought he might hurt her, or be angry enough to consider it. But Hakoda didn't advance, only leaned over the table between them and splayed his fingers across the surface, laughing bitterly. "Yes, I do think it's a joke," He said steadily, "A cruel joke that a man can wage war just because of some misplaced sense of superiority."

Emboldened, Ursa shot back at him, "The Fire Nation is the greatest nation in the world."

The Chief just stared up at her tiredly, "Pretty much everyone says that about their own country; it's a simple matter of loyalty. Someone who's supposed to have so much pull within her nation shouldn't confuse what the difference is between patriotism and fact."

"Fact? If the Water Tribe has ships like ours, they're doing a very good job of hiding them, and even I know the Earth Kingdom doesn't," Hakoda looked like he had some very sharp things to say about their navy, but simply tightened his fingers and let her continue. "I've told you about what we've developed, how far we've come. The Fire Nation has moved into a new age of enlightenment, and it is our destiny to share our gift with the rest of the world."

And really, out of all the things she'd provoked him with over the course of their time together, that final sentence set him off the most.

"Share? You honestly believe that? I've seen the 'glorious future' your Fire Lord has in store for the rest of the world, and how far the policy of 'sharing' really goes," Hakoda pointed accusingly at the world map pinned to the wall of his room. "Do you think the Earth Kingdom would agree with you after having their lands burnt to nothing? And the Water Tribe know that the Fire Lord isn't interested in sharing, but taking."

Ursa paused, taken aback by the fierce anger and pain in his words, even as she had tensed up in defense of her argument against his claims. It wasn't just that he morally believed she was wrong, there was something else motivating him too and it was the key to understanding him. Her mind went back, searching. For their first talk, Hakoda had asked about the taken waterbenders with the hurt of someone who was personally involved and implied that everyone aboard his ship carried some kind of scar.

Ursa supposed it was only her bad luck that she trod all over it.

"Oh…you lost someone, didn't you?" The warrior reeled, his sudden anger kicked aside by surprise. "They were important to you, right? A loved one?"

Hakoda straightened, his hands curled into tight fists, "This conversation is over."

Ursa supposed that was for the best. Level-headed as he was most of the time, provoking him any more could result in a fallout she had no interest in catching the brunt of. She didn't say anything more, just giving the Chief one last last respectful nod before turning away from his sight, secluding herself back in her room with no more fuss.

And yet, despite folding and pulling back, she did learn some important things about Hakoda. He had grievances, both moral and logical (that he claimed–Hakoda had yet to show her his proof) as reasons for opposing the Fire Nation. But if his anger was what she thought it was, it wasn't either of those things that pushed him to actively enter the war, but a personal loss. Family and loved ones might have meant something different to the Water Tribe than what she knew, but Ursa was certain that trying to change him would be so much harder with a scar to fall back on.

She let it lie and drifted off on her cot, content to rest on the matter and revisit it when she was fresh and alert the following morning.

But Hakoda did not speak to her the next day, or the day after that.

Pushing his buttons made him skittish and wary of her, avoiding her as long as it suited him–an accomplishment of sorts given the size of the ship. Ursa wanted to offer a polite apology to the Chief for prodding him, but never managed to approach him.

Was it possible he had no more questions for her? Then what was next to give her, his proof?

The answer came in the form of landfall and plumes of smoke on the horizon.

Craggy shoreline crested by gnarled trees greeted them, and even having never seen a single trace of the Water Tribe homeland (or even outside her own land), Ursa knew what they had reached was the Earth Kingdom, not the South. The scent of smoke was thick in the air as they made anchor and stepped on shore, while the other southern ships patrolled the bay slowly.

Hakoda stayed away and led his warriors up the rough incline onto the embankment, but one of the younger warriors lingered behind to assist her with the trek, likely under the Chief's orders. Despite the many days spent together on the rolling seas, most of the tribesmen were not interested in interacting with her, but the younger men were at least somewhat polite if she addressed them. Even so, she could not help but compare the Chief's gentlemanly grip from the first day they met, to the assistance she received now that only did the bare minimum to keep her from tumbling to the ground.

But Ursa was quickly occupied by the trees clearing to reveal a fortress hidden not far from the coastline, patchwork walls made of chopped trees and irregular stone blocks made up the circumference, broken only by a portcullis gate fashioned from thick oak timbers. The sounds of metal clanging echoed from within.

A rebel base then. One that the Chief had visited before to walk to so confidently at that. Which was why is was little surprise to see Hakoda approach the gate alone and raise his arm in a signal, prompting the guard on the other side to raise the portcullis. At another gesture to the waiting warriors, they entered the fortress, and left the forest behind them.

Ursa expected to see military, Earth Kingdom soldiers dressed in armors of subdued green, judgmental gazes and sharpened sabers at the ready, but she was sharply mistaken. The "soldiers" inside the fortress had only the basest of supplies: rough leatherwork for armor, an ensemble of old military sabers and farm tools as weapons, and haunted eyes. And most of the people didn't have weapons at all, tending to the farms on the western side instead. The interior of the wall was shorn up–desperately–on the inside as well, and the houses looked very old and rundown.

"Not what you expected, I assume," Ursa startled to see Hakoda standing a meter away, eyes scanning the crowd as his people brought crates loaded with what she assumed was supplies to the bare-bones militia. She didn't answer, just nodded silently and waited. "There used to be an ordinary village here, too small to really have a name. But when the Fire Nation moved through the region north of here, families fleeing their homes found this settlement hidden away and made it into a refugee camp," He paused, mulling things over. "This is far from the only one, and not the largest I'm sure. Not everyone can afford to make the long passage to Ba Sing Se, if they'd even let you in."

Ursa stared at the walls, the people, the sparse defenses they carried, "Where are the stone walls, the military…?"

"Most of the people here aren't benders or they're not powerful enough to build the kind of fortifications they need. The camp is well-hidden and there's a good source of water, but no quarry from which to get the stone they'd need," Hakoda said carefully, but it sounded almost like he was back to his old self from before. "And the Earth Kingdom won't be able to send aid until a route opens up for them to do so."

Her eyes closed, understanding their plight, "This is what you wanted to show me? Your proof?"

"Not quite. You shouldn't hear it from just me. Talk to the refugees, give them your help, ask for their stories…" He looked at her, bright blue eyes both distant and warm, "Not all of them will want to speak I'm sure, but if you really want to understand the war, why we fight, the most important thing is to learn about who you are fighting. I've asked you my questions too, didn't I?"

Ursa did not reply in words, but she turned away from him and moved into the settlement, inspired to look for the "truth" he valued so highly. And it was true that many of the refugees didn't want to speak with her, not even knowing of where she hailed. But others did, some almost desperate to divulge what happened to them, how hurt or angry they felt, and how they came to the fortress.

An old man who was veteran from years passed fled to escape the war he had already fought, and how it still flashed in his memory in waking nightmare.

A bitter young widow joined the local militia to honor her fallen husband, taking her infant son to the camp to keep him safe and hidden.

A hunter from the surrounding woods helped ferry frightened villagers to the camp, and after they arrived, could not bear to abandon them.

A child no older than twelve had wandered there alone, confused and scared after losing his family; he had nowhere else to go.

Their stories and others stuck with Ursa when the warriors returned to their ship, only vaguely aware of how Hakoda once again helped her over the threshold as he had done the first time, revising her world just a little bit more.

She had known–logically–that there had to be casualties, hurt. But from so far away, lives felt more like numbers, and only the Fire Nation dead were spoken of in mourning. The refugees opened up a world that was uncomfortably real, and Ursa's once-protected life balked at it. There was temptation in rejecting most of what Hakoda told her, but there was too much here to set aside.

Ursa went straight to her cot to sleep and reflect the moment they pulled away from shore.

She had a lot to talk to the Chief about in the morning, but he mostly wanted her reactions. What she felt talking to them, how their words made her feel.

It wasn't a common thing to hear, not back home. Who had wanted to know what she thought?

But Ursa was still confused. The refugees had tugged at her soul, but her beliefs remained stubborn. Hakoda seemed to expect as much, the curve of a expectant smile on his face, the first he'd had in awhile, "I still have more things to show you if you want to see them." She agreed–when had this become her choice?–and the Water Tribe routes changed once more.

He showed her much more.

As weeks passed he brought her to another camp much like the first, an Earth Kingdom barracks in ruins with records of old troop movements and deadly battles, a Fire Nation colony viewed through telescopes and scouting reports, towns who clashed openly with the Fire Nation or avoided their wrath entirely, and wandering refugees making the long trek to Ba Sing Se. Each visit caused Ursa to slowly rebuild the foundation of her beliefs and what they consisted of, and her sympathy grew stronger. The tribesmen started to soften to her as she did them, offering their own stories, and even the cook thought to sneak her an extra helping during mealtimes.

And every time they made port, Hakoda took her hand and led her respectfully over to shore, so often it became habit rather than necessity. Ursa found it familiar, fond even, smiling quietly at the gesture and even when they met for their talks. She had admired his intelligence and skill from the first time she met him as an enemy and that was a constant in their interactions ever since, but she could not begin to pinpoint when a simple admiration became an attachment. Or even worse (better), something more.

She would learn later that he felt something similar. Less concretely defined, but respect for the woman beyond her blood in the steadiness of her words, grace amid rocking ships alien to her, and a mind that was willing and able to learn. And when Hakoda understood, the familiarity scared him, and that the understanding of just what he was feeling would remain unspoken just as it did before.

It culminated on a calm night at sea, a thick crescent moon casting shining reflections across the still waters, and Ursa watching it alone on the deck. She didn't often watch it before she was spirited away, but the Water Tribe loved the moon, and out of respect she appreciated it too.

Silver had its own beauty just as gold did, even elegance.

Ursa felt, rather than saw, when Hakoda stepped out to join her on deck. He gripped the railing loosely nearby and spoke, "How much of this did you expect when you left home, Ursa?"

"Very little to be honest. I could never hate my homeland but…I recognize parts of my old life as a gilded cage now, so much I wasn't told, that I didn't have context for. I have you to thank for 'imprisoning' me, I suppose," Mock offense, told with a small smile.

Hakoda clapped a hand over his heart as though wounded and laughed, "Well, between stuffy royal marriage and adventures with a southern pirate, who would choose the former?" That was the man she'd come to know, an intelligent leader but also humorous and kind. The man who outmaneuvered warships with relative ease, but pointed her at the civilians left behind and asked her to learn about them. Know who you are fighting.

Ursa moved her hand from the ship's rail and touched his, softly but noticeably. For all the times he had led her by the hand, she hadn't begun the action herself, only let it happen. But she couldn't be passive forever, after all. "In seriousness, I respect what you've done, the difference you've made…" When she looked over, Ursa found Hakoda's bright eyes fixed on her hand, laid on his. "The things you've shown me… I've learned a lot."

"I've learned a lot too," He said, gaze slowly rising, "There's so much people don't know about the world outside their borders, and rooted in their ways… When you think of it like that, maybe the Fire Nation aren't the only people who should strive for change."

"Hmm, progressive, aren't we?" Ursa murmured, thinking about strong, gentle hands, worn with familiar callouses. It gave her an idea, one she had fancied but never thought to act on until then.

There was one more trip Ursa hadn't seen, one she couldn't claim wholly unselfish reasons for.

"You know…" Her fingers curled tighter, tracing the grooves between his pronounced knuckles, admiring for the first real time the differences between them. And between what the Water Tribe was thought to be, and what he truly was. Hakoda could have been every bit the pirate he had the power to be–had every chance–but never was; brilliance wrapped in chivalry. "I haven't the opportunity to visit the Southern lands before. It could be a real learning experience," But that wasn't all of what she meant and from the way the man's eyes widened, he could see it as well.

"You'd really… my home is far from a noble's ideal vacation spot, it would be rough," The smile was back, but Ursa could detect a trace of nerves and hopefulness behind his eyes.

"Then I suppose you'll have to teach me, won't you, Hakoda?" And then Ursa grasped his hand firmly and tugged him down to her level, and finally, finally, captured his lips in a kiss. Silent and peaceful, it was a union to which the pale moon was their only watcher.

* * *

.

Kya was escorted to the palace late in the afternoon a few hours following her sudden meeting with the Prince, trussed up in the new black dress and sandals that he had insisted she wear, a vague sense of unease pooling in her gut. Ozai had left ahead of her, carried in that same golden litter as the first time she saw him, an object of authority that she later learned was called a palanquin.

It seemed like a waste of precious gold and time to her, not that Kya would say that out loud.

Nevertheless, Ozai did not bring her with him, either out of the desire to keep his interest subtle–but why would he, after how obvious he had been up to this point–or because the royal family didn't consider her worth the privilege of the ride. Kya suspected the latter. She was only a temporary guest of men who thought themselves infallible. An expensive gift now and then, sure, but a symbol would not be hers to have. And so she was left to walk in the company of the ever silent guards, and the lingering gaze from passerby left her tense and uncomfortable.

At first she simply concentrated on the unusual feeling of the clothes to distract herself, the layers of silk shifting against her skin in a way that made her feel strangely exposed. Despite the multiple layers, the cloth felt thin and fragile after so many years in the south garbed in heavy furs. Despite knowing nothing about fashion in the Fire Nation and how little such an elegant gown would be useful in her home, Kya could see the expense in what she wore, another valuable gift Ozai felt the need to give her. Either he was pushing harder with gifts to try to please her, or had been getting impatient.

Or maybe both.

Not that the dress and its implications mattered much now. The towering black monstrosity that was the royal palace loomed above her, and flanked on either side by unsympathetic guards, there was no escaping how its shadowing presence grew closer with every step.

Even still, Kya couldn't bring herself to really regret her choice, even when the reality of what she'd chosen sank in. Nobody taken away by the black ships ever came back; rescue attempts were little more than a hopeless dream. Kya had to rely on herself if she wanted to see the southern shores again.

She curled her hands into loose fists under the cover of the voluminous sleeves and breathed out slowly as the doors creaked open before her, and her armored escort lead her firmly inside by the arm. Stepping into that yawning hall was like stepping onto the threshold of another world.

The air was cooler than she expected, and no deadly inferno greeted her in the hall. The heavy boots of the guards and Kya's footsteps produced a noticeable echo over the polished tile floors, and made the palace feel even emptier if possible. She didn't focus on it, her eyes seeking out the heavy supports and intricate carvings adorning the doorways, of snarling dragons and whirling phoenix with long, elegant tails. But try as she might, it was next to impossible for Kya to really distract herself that way, she never had much interest in architecture beyond how well it sheltered someone from the elements, something with little value here.

Kya climbed several flights of stairs, lifting the flowing fabric of her skirts up to her ankles to keep the dress from getting caught under her heels. Nerves were already making her stumble more than she should, best not to add to it.

Her escort did not stand on ceremony when they finally arrived at their destination, only opened the entrance and ushered her inside, the door closing behind her with tangible finality.

A spacious lounge greeted her, decked out with plush black sofas and tapestries emblazoned with the Fire Nation's emblem that spanned from the ceiling nearly down to the floor. The one window was curtained, and incense sticks were burning idly in a golden, oval bowl, scenting the air with the faint odor of cinnamon. Near the far wall, through the gap of an open doorway, she spied the red-draped edge of a grand bed. It was as effective a wake-up call as she could've imagined. Her choice was a lot more jarring in hindsight and Kya shifted uncomfortably, not realizing that her hands were clenched into fists until she noticed the pain of her nails digging into her palms.

Prince Ozai was waiting for her in a seat off to her left, pouring himself a small glass of clear liquor from a bottle and setting it aside. Several layers of the elaborate finery he was wearing before were gone and only the loose folds of the robes managed to hide the definition there. Even as she took him in, sharp eyes rose to meet her own, and just like the first time she'd ever seen him, the sight of harsh gold made her freeze in her tracks without meaning to. Ozai's sight drifted once to her hair and then to the tailored dress, the way the cloth flared out around her ankles and the way the red darkened smoothly into black at the base.

Then his lips curled up in a self-satisfied look, "I knew it would fit you well."

"So you did," Kya frowned, wondering how she ever mistook his motivations for anything other than this. And if Ozai ever knew how off she had been in the start.

It wasn't until the Prince raised a brow at her and gestured in a summons that she realized she still hadn't taken a step away from the entrance yet, some part of her still hesitant. "What's wrong? Are you starting to reconsider our deal already? I can easily have you escorted right back if that's what you really want…" Despite his words, the man was clearly banking on her acceptance, tension apparent in the stiff set of his shoulders and the too-tight grip around the glass he held. Kya supposed the idea of her potentially backing out at the last minute didn't sit well with him at all after all the plying and gifts, not that it really mattered.

In spite of everything, her mind was already made up.

Pride was all well and good for some people–enough reason to fight and waste away at that–but not for her.

Kya stepped away from the threshold, approaching the Prince and seating herself on the sofa little more than a foot away, pressing her hands into the plush surface to stabilize herself from slipping. So close she could pick out the noticeable shine in Ozai's black hair and the exact shade in those golden eyes.

Kya shouldn't be paying attention to this, to anything beyond what her "host" said and did, but she wasn't blind either. The Prince's options weren't exactly limited… and he went to her.

The bottle of liquor was starting to look uncomfortably tempting.

He leaned forward and entangled his fingers in her long hair, tamed from the immaculate teeth of a silver comb, and admired the thick, brown locks that spilled over his hand. The sight held held him steady for a moment or two, appraising eyes like a hunter over a fine pelt. Whatever he saw in them must have satisfied him, because Ozai smiled sharply leaned further into an embrace and drew her closer with a heavy hand across her shoulder until there was little else that she could see. And then he was close, so close to her that Kya could feel the faint aura of heat simmering off his skin–the fire running through his veins standing to attention along with with everything else–and she knew what came next.

Ozai did not pretend to be chaste when he kissed her. He surged into her like fire, with energy and ferocity, overwhelming enough for Kya to dig her fingers into the thick cushions in an attempt to hold steady in the face of such tumultuous emotion. When she lost her grip and sank into the thick furniture, he followed immediately, all presence of decorum thrown to the winds as hunger took hold.

When the Prince started to push apart her red dress, Kya couldn't help but wonder what would her family think if they knew what she was doing, if they would call her a traitor. Her late father–spirits rest his soul–patient and traditional, certainly would. And her mother's sad eyes, she could see them so clearly. And after so much, even Kanna probably thought her dead or worse. Far, far away in a strange land they couldn't ever see.

Kya couldn't stand those thoughts anymore, didn't want to think about any of this, at least for a while.

She pushed at Ozai's chest to let her up and slid around to snag the glass of liquor from the end table the moment she had a path, drinking it down in an instant and letting the buzz sink into her brain. The taste of cinnamon spice lingered on Kya's tongue and welcomed the loss of that frightening hyperawareness. He didn't try to hurt her, but Ozai was far from soft, and like an animal Kya tore into his shoulders with her nails in retaliation–for this, for her home, for everything he represented. It wasn't so bad when the alcohol numbed the mind and she couldn't focus on the consequences, and when the wall of fire descended on her again, Kya found she wasn't afraid at all.

.

.

.

So Ozai got what he wanted and Kya stayed in a guest room where he could visit at leisure, and she was given expensive Fire Nation cuisine laid out on shiny tableware, a bed the size of an entire tent back home, and more finery than she knew what to do with. Even if Ozai had told her beforehand what he was offering, it still seemed like too much in the flesh (but in some ways, not enough for the price she had to pay for it).

Kya had asked her host if the Fire Lord had allowed her this room or if he minded, and for the first time the Prince showed open anger at the question, though not really at her in specific. Ozai had slammed his hand into a wall and shouted, "I don't need my father's permission to have a guest!" Kya backed away from him until he calmed down and marked that down as a subject she shouldn't broach.

Then Ozai had admitted to not asking permission, but she didn't bring the topic up again.

But the room was far too much for a Water Tribe woman accustomed to living on very little, and more than that, to work for what she had. Not one moment in the south was wasted; there were constant repairs to be done on homes and boats, fishing and food-gathering to be done, cooking, and caring after the young in the tribe–a community-wide effort with how much the South had deteriorated. Even without the men's duties of hunting, fighting, and the building of their wall, she did not live a lax lifestyle by any means.

Kya could not be like the nobility, wasting their entire lives away in decadent stagnation, without a single care for the world beyond their gilded box. She didn't think much on it before, working for the tribe was a way of life, as natural as breathing.

Kya had lost her footing and she had to work, to be useful somehow.

Those weren't the words she used to convince Ozai, but it was still surprisingly easy to persuade him to give Kya something to do beyond sitting around in her room waiting for his next visit. 'If this isn't supposed to be a cell, then prove it.'

It wasn't respect, not really. But something about the force of her emotion pleased him and consented. If it was just to keep her placated, Kya didn't really care, as it was, she had nothing but time.

It wasn't as though she wasn't doing something similar to Ozai as well.

The next day the maids left writing utensils in her room and plants on the barred window sill with instructions for care. The guard at her door informed her that he'd been cleared to escort her to and from the library and garden at certain times of the day, if she wished. And that was…better.

Kya built a rough journal by dipping a sheaf of paper in paste and stitching a binding on either side, a tool she used to chronicle her stay in the Fire Nation, keep track of the days that had passed, and to store the stolen Fire Nation map she'd found in the library. Nothing she did was really a secret from Ozai except for this–it was just for her and no one else–and Kya buried the journal in her mattress and cleaned up herself to make sure the maids never found it.

Privacy wasn't really a worry in the South, the community trusted each other, but here Kya knew–for her sake–she had to retain some of it. Even if only a piece.

The rest of her time there was not so clandestine.

True to his word, her guard brought her back and forth between the library and garden when asked, but usually when only he was present, or with the addition of the Prince. It wasn't hard to understand why; Ozai lacked subtlety, but he did make an effort to prevent her from interacting with people outside of him and the attendants (and likely, to keep his father out of the loop). Kya learned what she could of the Fire Nation in the archives, but only to understand, not fit in.

There were some things she did see the use of in the history books, but the assuredness of the authors' words, the propaganda, was scary to read like this. Doubtless, like a cold, hard fact instead of opinion. This wasn't only a mindset engineered to control the people's motivations; they actually believed it.

It took some time for her curiosity to recover after that realization.

Soon enough though, she found life in the palace to be settling into a pattern of sorts, balanced between her room, the escorted outings (including the necessary and welcome visits to the bathhouse to be refreshed), and Ozai. Which was not what Kya wanted, better to stay alert. She certainly didn't want to get used to being there when the whole point was to go home when her host was done amusing himself with her.

But then, there were the pattern-breakers. When Ozai called her to the lounge and just…talked to her. Or maybe just to talk at her, because oftentimes she didn't even get the chance to get a sentence in edgewise to him. Kya wouldn't be surprised to learn that he enjoyed hearing the sound of his own voice, but being used as a sounding board was a bit much.

Still, if offloading his opinions prevented him from exploding in Kya's face later, she was willing to tolerate it without complaint.

The Prince always seemed to have some grievance, something to be upset about. Whether it was about his father (though Ozai visited this topic in less detail), his older brother, or the war (or more accurately, his lack of involvement in it). Kya tried to interject occasionally, such as asking him if there were any family members he did get along with; there was not, and Kya couldn't conceive of hating everyone in her community like he seemed to with his. But then, she hadn't expected this either, sitting in a palace listening to the questionable woes of royalty while his fingers dove into her hair and caressed at bared shoulders freed from their expensive threads…

Ozai verbally attacked Crown Prince Iroh more than anything else. According to him his brother was (among other things) the Fire Lord's 'golden boy' who could do no wrong, lied as easily as breathing, never shut up about his "leaf water," and was a "filthy womanizer." Kya lifted her brow at that last one, because she didn't really think Ozai had the right to make that kind of comparison when she was sitting right there, but apparently the maids confirmed the older Prince's propensity for flirting, which made her think. Her host was obviously seething in jealousy and was using her as an (unwilling) ear to listen and wasn't exactly trustworthy, but he wasn't much of a liar either. How much truth distorted by anger was he loosing in those rants?

Nevertheless, Kya agreed to stay away from the Crown Prince when Ozai demanded it just in case. If Iroh was just as bad or worse than his brother, then she had no interest in dealing with both of them, and it wasn't a risk she was willing to take. And a general at that; as unpleasant as Ozai could be, at least he hadn't burned any cities in 'service to his country.'

And well, anyone who had the favor of Fire Lord Azulon, the monster who reduced her homeland to a ruin of what it once was, wasn't someone she wanted to meet.

These "talks," if they could be called that, helped to sate her host, and it kept some of the pent-up frustration out of his physical interest in her. Ozai got a tad looser, even if most of his demands remained the same, and decided to bring her to his training hall out of the blue so that she could watch him firebend.

Kya had never seen firebending when it wasn't aimed with the intent to kill or maim, and the sight made her uncomfortable enough to sit on the far side of the room to avoid the slightest chance of blowback.

But the heat was still incredible even then, and Ozai's fire was explosive and loud, so intense that soldiers who invaded her home may as well have been flinging embers in comparison. That was just one more difference between base level soldiers and the royal family, and Kya couldn't help but shake just from being so close to it.

And yet, she got the feeling like he was trying to impress her, not intimidate her. Would that Kya had any appreciation for the flame beyond what she pretended to show.

But still, all the distractions and talks in the world couldn't throw Kya off when the month long mark came and went, and she remained in the palace with no sign of the Prince's bride. Her guard and the maids were tight-lipped and nervous, more so than usual. Something had happened, something that they weren't allowed to tell her. And when Ozai finally came to her later that night, he was noticeably more frustrated and impatient than usual, but Kya had lost the ability to be eternally patient with him.

"Where is your bride?" Kya barely waited until Ozai entered and closed the door behind him before speaking, sitting calmly on the far side, arms tightly folded.

He didn't immediately reply, looking her up and down, taking in the heavy layers she'd pulled from the wardrobe and closed off expression. Kya wasn't sure how better to make a statement from what she'd been given, but it seemed to be having an effect at least, even with the addition of his stiff attitude. "Kya…" Ozai paused, removing the ornament holding his topknot in place and setting it aside, "It seems that my fiancee won't be joining us at the palace after all." When Kya's expression didn't change beyond the furrowing of her brow, he continued, "Apparently the ship carrying her was attacked by pirates and sunk into the sea. So you can see how that would complicate matters."

She considered this for a moment, but even if the loss of the bride was tragic and unexpected for him, it shouldn't change her goal. "That doesn't mean you can keep me here."

"What is this ungratefulness? I give you the gift of clothes, good food, and a warm bed, and you throw it back in my face?" Ozai snapped, stomping closer.

The heat in the room was rising, stuffy and overpowering; Kya held steady. "You gave me a month for her to return and she did not. You made me a promise, Prince Ozai," At those words, the man in question straightened up, staring at her in a new light, "If you were just going to break your deal to me, then you might as well put me back in my cell." Part of her screamed at the idea of returning there, of all the time and energy she'd spent in his company, wasted in the end. But the Prince wasn't about to just give up and let go.

"I made no such promise," Ozai growled, sharp with imposed finality. As Kya surged out of her seat to protest, he cut her off, "The deal was for you to go free when my fiancee arrived, I never set a time limit." Kya's eyes widened, trying to think back and finding that, yes he was telling the truth. How could she have overlooked such an obvious trap, even one unplanned? She winced at the realization, even as Ozai stepped up to her side, uncomfortable heat starting to die away little by little. "I have a much better idea than that cell…" he brushed away a stray hair from her face and lowered his voice, "stay with me."

"As what? Your dirty little secret or your replacement wife?" Kya said, feeling more tired and defeated than she ever was in the raider's ship. It was one thing to tolerate Ozai for hope of release later, but now she was realizing that home was no longer a possibility.

The smile was back, discomforting, but preferable to his previous temper, "Whichever you prefer." It was choice between retaining the delicate secrecy she'd had so far with little more than a breath of freedom, and letting their uneven relationship solidify into something public. Both frightening futures to envision in different ways.

Why pretend she had a choice, when her people never even… Oh.

"I want to make another deal," Kya met his gaze evenly, a curiously raised brow. "If I agree to stay…in whatever capacity, I want you to end the attacks on the Southern Water Tribe."

A beat of silence then, "I'm not the Southern Raiders."

"Yes that's right, you're the Prince of the Fire Nation, far more powerful than them," She reasoned frankly, and though they served a very important purpose, every word out of her mouth was true. "There are no more waterbenders in the south pole, there weren't when I was taken away, and attacking them now accomplishes nothing. The Southern Raiders are hurting my people for no good reason. I know you may not care, but I do, my home is everything to me. Those are my conditions for my cooperation and I also know that's what you want." Kya brushed off her dress and waited, immovable as a glacier.

Ozai ruminated on her conditions for a moment or two before his harsh demeanor faded, "Well, I don't think that will be too much trouble." He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles in a parody of chivalry.

"I look forward to seeing you recite the vows, Lady Kya."

Kya had not the will to reply, sinking back into the fire, at the mercy of another sacrifice.

With any luck, this one would create something good in the end.

* * *

 _Earlier:_

 _"Did you think I wouldn't find out?"_

 _Fire Lord Azulon was far too cold for a firebender, his eyes as empty as his voice and twice as emotionless. A brave young maid had whispered in the halls that Azulon hunted the waterbenders because he was jealous of the frozen ice running through their veins, and the Prince let it pass in amused silence. Ozai had tried to appeal to him once in the past, before it became apparent that his father only bore an interest in his eldest son and no more._

 _He'd been called to the throne room unexpectedly that morning, well before the first audiences of the day began, and had no patience for either the attendants nor his father's insistence on paltry procedure._

 _But Azulon did not call him to berate for the mistake of the day, or his shameful voyage which he loved to bring up so often, but the woman he'd stowed away in the guest room._

 _"You know better than to think you can deceive me in my own palace, Prince Ozai." Said Prince spoke nothing in reply. Arguing with the Fire Lord was not unlike arguing with an inferno stripped of one's flame. It had no compassion, no interest, it simply destroyed the trespasser and moved onward. "The Avatar's granddaughter is lost, and your answer is some Water Tribe peasant pulled out of a cell. I expected a mistake, and yet to have you defy our plans this way…_

 _Ozai remained silent, but he ground his teeth in thinly repressed anger._

 _Who he wanted was his business alone._

 _And Kya was primal, untamed beauty with rich brown hair and cool blue eyes, willful, patient and honest, and unafraid._

 _That she was a taboo only made him want her more._

 _Azulon glared at him, thin-lipped and displeased, but not surprised. "But, after everything I've seen, what more could you possibly do to disappoint me further? I will correct your selfish outbursts no more. Away with you. Take your common-blooded prize, and never again ask me for another favor, or invite punishment upon yourself you will not soon forget!"_

* * *

 _._

 _A/N: finally got off my butt and finished this, next chapter: kids!  
_


	3. Warmth in the Ice

_Warnings for this chapter: Water Tribe focus, implied sexual content, some unreliable narrator_

.

.

* * *

After that night under the stars she spent with Hakoda, the balance aboard the vessel had shifted for Ursa, and with it a world of possibilities made clear and present.

Hakoda watched her sometimes out of the corner of his eye during the day, gaze flickering over to her as he wound a length of rope across his hands, almost nervously like he was worried she would disappear when he wasn't paying attention. And made sure she always had a meal (even if she was slow to adjust to the differing diet). His attentiveness was at once both worrisome to her and endearing at the same time. Worrisome because she knew without the need for words that whoever Hakoda had lost to her country was someone he loved, and the hurt was clear enough to continue onto Ursa. But it was endearing as well, because Hakoda was too nervous to be anything but genuine to her, possibility for deception not even a thought in her mind.

It was grounding, to know that he cared for her. Even as wild and unexpected as the truth was.

(Love wasn't a word Ursa wanted to use in seriousness just yet, not for something so young and fresh. But even so, she could feel the emotion he inspired in her blossoming little by little, like a Fire Flower blooming in mid-winter.)

But it wasn't as though his attentiveness went unacknowledged. Though unwilling to label their relationship, Ursa took new interest in the talks that she spent with him, subject matter varying wildly from what they were before. Hakoda listened as she told him wistfully of the gardens back home, verdant green flower beds sprouting blooms in clusters that the household tended to dutifully. When a faintly pained look entered his features, she hesitated until the man waved her on to continue. Ursa knew he couldn't provide that for her, no matter how much he wanted to. She believed him when Hakoda told her there were beautiful things in the South too, but hoping for flowers was too much to expect from a world of ice and snow.

Still, he listened and that was everything she hoped for. To be heard was a precious thing.

Aboard the Water Tribe vessel, there were no secrets. In such a cramped space, it was impossible to keep her relation with the Chief under the radar, even if they were subtle. Ursa had worried that the crew, unswervingly loyal and honest, would reject her for daring to be involved with their leader. It was a fear born of losing the trust she was beginning to entrust to them. But she was no stranger to them now. Ursa walked among the men of the South for long enough to know their names, their stories, and their protectiveness over those they considered their kin.

So they did not reject Ursa, and the relief surged through her. It wouldn't do for her to become so entangled with the brilliant Chief, only for his own people to make him bear the fallout for it. If they had been from the more established North, or if Hakoda hadn't been such a capable and well-respected leader, she wouldn't have gotten off so easily.

Even when Hakoda's second in command decided to cross ships to meet her himself.

Bato was Hakoda's right hand man and introduced himself as a friend who'd known the Chief since he was a kid, commanding one of the two ships that usually accompanied his leader's vessel. If it were not for the benign smile, he would have looked intimidating in form alone. Bato looked roughly a few years older than Hakoda and practically towered over most of the crew, long haired and hard-edged.

After the initial introductions were made though, Bato asked to speak with Ursa in his office alone. His friend agreed with a furrowed brow, stepping aside to leave him in his office, seeming to take all the energy in the room away with him.

"You might want to sit down, Lady Ursa, I'd like to get this over with," The man told her, slipping into place behind Hakoda's desk. It was odd to see him there, but she supposed Bato was a good friend of Hakoda, and commanded his own ship besides; he shouldn't look so out of place. "There's just something I need to check, so I know that you know what you're getting into here."

Ursa took a seat across from him, uncertain of what this could all be about. Hiding hesitance behind poise, she spoke up, "Was there something in particular you wanted to ask me about?"

"Yes…" He paused, rifling his fingers through the papers on the desk, before looking straight up and staring sharply into her eyes. "I don't know how to phrase this gently, so I'm just going to come out and say it…are you in love with Hakoda?"

What? Ursa froze in her chair, staring at the warrior with wide eyes. Hakoda was more cagey than this and never pushed the subject even when it was convenient for him, heeding her tendency to dance around the issue instead of confronting it. It was their flaw, both too cautious and indirect to face their emotions directly unless pushed otherwise, but still… For Bato to address it now almost felt like an accusation, an ultimatum. "Why are you asking me this…?"

"Because I need to make sure that you've thought through this…relationship, because whether you want to or not, it's going to be brought up the moment you arrive at the Tribe. The elders are going to have things to say to you, Ursa. They trust Hakoda as Chief, so as long as you're committed and honest, they'll ultimately defer to his judgement even if they fuss about it at first," Bato allowed himself a small smile of amusement before his expression sobered up again. "Also because Hakoda is my friend and he's more sensitive than he seems. I'd rather he not throw himself headlong into this unless you're certain."

He quieted then, presumably to let her think, and she was grateful for it.

Did she love him? Ursa knew that she cared for Hakoda a great deal, eager to hear his opinions and thoughts, happy for any helpful touch he extended to her (once mere politeness now meaning something more), and respectful of his abilities. And she couldn't label her affections as platonic either (not anymore certainly, the first kiss had seen to that thoroughly), not when the fire in her blood and the veiled passion within it wondered at what he looked like under the cover of that blue cloth…

She couldn't deny that if Hakoda had asked her directly to take that step, she would have indulged him.

So yes, Ursa wanted more, and to return the favor as well. Because wasn't that what Hakoda wanted; Bato implied as much, that his friend was willing to go all the way if she was real. And if that was the case… "I've never been in love before, so I don't know how it feels," Ursa regained the poise he'd broken before, straightening in her seat, "but I care for him deeply and want to share that with him as long as I can. If that's love, then yes, I do love him."

Bato relaxed and released the breath he was holding, the benign look returning to his face, "Well, that's really what I needed to know." But he didn't immediately leave, and Ursa took the opportunity to tell him how her motivations changed over the journey, that she hadn't always trusted Hakoda, but always saw value in his words. Her speech wasn't just to win Bato's good opinion, but to strengthen herself as well; in hindsight, it wasn't too hard to believe how Ursa had arrived to this point. She was silent afterwards, and the quiet man gave her his own personal nod of acknowledgement, and approval. He rose from the desk and Ursa quickly did the same, glancing out the window on his right to observe the rolling waves, "We're about a week from landfall. From here on, its Southern Water Tribe waters, so be prepared for the cold."

"Thank you, Bato, for asking me about this," She said, stopping the man before he could open the door and leave. "I think you've sorted out some things I was feeling by asking me that."

"I'm just looking out for my best friend, though for what's it worth, I hope you don't have any trouble with the Tribe," With a last, cursory nod, he finally opened the door and stepped away. Sighing as he pulled the door shut behind him, Ursa felt the tension leaving her there in the office as Bato left to have one more talk with Hakoda.

Somehow, she had managed to pass his test, and that did ease some of the pressure.

But now that she only had one week before landfall, Ursa knew that she'd be facing another one at least when the Tribe saw her.

Ursa waited there a little longer before rising to her feet and leaving the office, feeling lighter.

After all, what could change in a week?

* * *

A few nights before their arrival, Ursa finally seized the opportunity she'd been craving. An opportunity that would change her future from then onward.

It happened on a quiet night, when the water currents settled and the bustling activity on the ship eased to a halt, leaving them rocking slowly in a dark sea.

Ursa slipped out of her room well into the night, doing her best not to draw the attention of the warrior on watch that hour. Maybe the crew was all well aware and mostly accepting of the direction of their Chief's affections, but tonight was one in which she wanted a measure of privacy. It wasn't just that even accepting eyes could be tiring on such close quarters either.

Ursa hiked up her dress as she stepped lightly across the planks in her soft, insulated shoes the Chief had given her, bundling dark cloth between her fingers and silent in the dark. The old silk layers had worn to pieces ages ago, but the supply runs Hakoda had undergone had provided her with more to wear to make up the difference. The protection she wore now was more like a particularly lengthy parka than a dress and suited to the regional southern cold, heavy russet brown cloth and lined with gray fur, an under layer padded enough that she rarely felt the rougher exterior. It was very different to the touch, but pleasantly warm.

Ursa found her way across the ship and made it to a door that was now so familiar to her, knocking on the wood with two brief taps of her knuckles. Whether it was because he was a warrior accustomed to being on the move or a personal habit of character, Hakoda was a remarkably light sleeper, and it didn't take long for the entrance to creak open before her. Ursa didn't waste any time and stepped inside quickly, smiling smoothly at the man on the other side of the threshold, the room lit only by a single solitary candle from the desk.

Shutting the door to leave them in privacy, Ursa did the same things that she did every time she visited his room during the lonely hour, pulling herself from the cumbersome outer layers and offering out her hand for him to take.

A request for a dance.

Teaching Hakoda how to dance had been a spur of the moment decision on her part, something to do while waiting for that last week on the open sea to be over.

And to be frank, he had a lot to learn.

The Water Tribe, or at least the settlements in the southern reaches, didn't usually engage in revelry or celebration since the war had stifled and changed their country, but it wasn't as though they didn't know anything about it. Ursa heard from the crew about honorable rites offered to the moon and and the winter solstice, recognition of warriors and builders with the passing of age, some part of a history that had survived the invasions. And though not all of them involved open celebration, some did.

But apparently Hakoda was not an expert on the quieter affairs. He was a man who didn't understand the appeal of the upper class' definition of dancing, the grace and poise expected of it, and its value in privacy. Ursa was certain that she could show him the value in it though, the intimacy that public revelry simply couldn't capture.

She guided him over the floor in slow, languid steps, emphasizing every move to be as smooth and forethought as possible. Hakoda's eyes studied her as they moved, committing her actions to memory, learning just as easily as she expected from him. The Chief was a man of learning and his actions thus far made it clear, picking up on both the emotional and cultural significance Ursa wanted to impart to him. He could learn the steps, if only he displayed the desire to. That said, Hakoda couldn't resist enjoying himself in his own way too. He laughed at himself when he stumbled, working to coax smiles out of her in spite of the somber pace, and his lively steps itched for speed and energy. Ursa wanted still more.

The faintly flirtatious looks aimed over their joined hands didn't help either.

But as she relaxed, Ursa found herself caught up by the energy and enthusiasm that her partner exuded, little by little, kicking up her feet. They moved faster, no longer stifled in near silence, dancing in tight circles in the constricting quarters. Barely keeping quiet, grace drizzling away, the candle on Hakoda's desk swayed in time to the beats.

And in tandem, a flame inside Ursa flared up in turn.

When their increasingly haphazard turns brought them close to Hakoda's bunk, her hands pressed hard against his chest, unbalancing his steps enough to drop him to the bed. And she followed soon after, hands bearing down on his shoulders as if to try to pin him there, even if it was just for show.

Hakoda stared up at her for a moment, almost in puzzlement at the sudden turn of events, and then laughed, "You planned that, you little sneak!"

"I learned by example," Ursa murmured, her heart racing. She was finally at the crux of want, and no matter how many layers of poise she wrapped herself in, the passion of the Fire Nation still ebbed at her core. "I want to see all of you," She said, pulling at the blue threads that barred them. Up to this point, Hakoda's hands had been her favorite part of him for more than one reason, but tonight could easily change her mind. But before she could, the man's hands moved up to catch hers and held them in place, meeting her eyes. "What?"

His tone was imploring, "Ursa, I need you to be sure about this. I can't undo anything that's already been done, so–"

She cut him off with a kiss, startling the warrior enough that he dropped her hands, and leaned in close. "I know, Hakoda. Trust me, I thought about it for a long time after speaking to your friend the other day, and I'm not known for making impulsive decisions. I want this, and I have a feeling…you feel the same too." He didn't deny her, expression warm, fingers rubbing slow circles into her wrists. Certainty made her continue in a hushed, "Let's take the next step."

Hesitation and any barriers stripped away, Ursa fell into him at last after so many days of dancing around each other, both physically and emotionally. The breaking point never felt so satisfying. She lost herself that dark night in a tangle of tanned muscle and loose cloth.

They moved together like the even rocking of the waves that carried their vessel.

Slow, deliberate and lasting.

Undisturbed through the dark hours, the pair had no constriction of schedule to bother them this time and claimed the morning to talk and recover.

And though neither of them would recognize the signs and find the truth until later, Ursa would find out that night when she first sought physical pleasure from Hakoda, was in fact the very night that they would conceive their first child.

 _'What could change in a week,'_ indeed.

* * *

Reaching landfall in the southern reaches was an exciting affair for the entire crew, splitting the air with shouts and directions, bringing in the sails to slow them to a stop before the ice.

Ursa stood up on deck as out of the way as she could, observing as what was recently a meer white sheen on the horizon grew into a snow-covered landmass that spread far out into the distance. Hakoda had been telling the honest truth when he promised his home would impress.

For starters, it wasn't just white.

When the midday sun struck the ocean, it threw light across the icy cliffside across the land, painting them in many shades of blue, adding color to a landscape just muted enough not to be overwhelming. Several of the men told her that the light changed with the hour, that sometimes in the twilight one could see the hues of purple as well. She could only look forward to the ribbons of light she's heard about at night, snaking across the sky so far out of reach.

But the impressive landscape was offset, unfortunately, by the barriered village near the shore. It was much smaller than Ursa had built up in her expectations, an irregular circle of igloos and a number of larger ones made up the settlement, mostly surrounded by a dense wall of packed snow that served as a defensive wall. Ursa had once read renditions of Water Tribe cities (North or South it never really specified, assuming of course the author cared about the difference) bolstered by a fortress wall of ice and snow. Somehow she'd imagined a city, comparable in size to something from home.

The reality didn't stack up to that at all.

It was understandable considering everything she'd been told but….

The undercurrent of hostility she remembered from the beginning gained new context.

But the ships weren't content to sit among the waves observing the villages, pulling up to the jagged coastline with a closeness that would have scuttled less skilled sailors, and lowered the gangplanks to shore without ceremony.

After that, warriors started unloading the ships, stepping off the vessels with arms full to meet the modest crowd of villagers gathering on the shore to welcome home the company. Some of the crew stayed apart, exchanging politeness but not drifting too far away from the ships. Thanks to so long at sea, Ursa had come to learn that these men were probably some of those that Hakoda had recruited into his ranks from other settlements, and their homes were farther away yet. But for now they mingled on the coast, lending a hand to the rest as best as able.

Ursa caught sight of Hakoda making his way down the plank before her, rushing to embrace a much older woman with a tight bun of grayed hair. The two of them began to talk animatedly, voices easily drowned out by the cacophony of noise settled over the docks. "Who is she?" Ursa remarked curiously, not aware she was speaking loud enough to be heard until someone took notice. The cook, Wolrik, had been handling a crate full of pots and pans nearby when she spoke and leaned a little closer to explain.

"That right there is Kanna, one of the circle of elders. She's one of the most respected among them and definitely the most loved. Kanna's like…a mother to everyone in the village." Ursa nodded quietly, watching while the woman pointed a finger in Hakoda's face sternly like she was scolding him. Wolrik chuckled, crate shifting in his grip with a clang as he took in the sight of his Chief being berated and moved away. "Well, more so for Hakoda than the rest of us of course."

Ursa didn't miss the implication of family there, the way that Hakoda only replied to Kanna's chiding with a embarrassed smile and shrugged. But then Kanna turned and scanned the docking ships, before her eyes took a double-take and alighted on Ursa's face, her black hair and pale skin standing out starkly among the crowd of tan and blue. The old woman had unusually sharp eyes, and the once-noble stood up straight, drawing the furs tighter around her body, self-conscious. Kanna looked more wary than angry, and nodded slowly when Hakoda called her down to join them. Uncertain but trusting him, Ursa did, adjusting to the give her heavily insulated shoes made in the snow, moving slowly as not to stumble in the drifts.

It wouldn't do for her to make a bad first impression on her first steps on the South after all.

Without even thinking about it, she shifted over to the brand of polite distance expected for meeting high society dignitaries. Judging by what she'd been told of the elders, the circle was more or less the Southern Water Tribe version of that anyway.

When she'd neared close enough, Ursa dipped her head respectfully, hands clasped together under her thick sleeves while Kanna regarded her with carefully appraising eyes and began to speak, "Lady Ursa, I presume…. We of the Water Tribe were not expecting to host someone of your…status."

Ursa modulated her voice carefully, hoping to get a read on her, "After some careful deliberation between myself and Chief Hakoda, he graciously offered me the opportunity to learn more about your people. I've learned a great deal from him during the voyage here."

Kanna stared at her thoughtfully and gave Hakoda a sideways glance, humming quietly to herself before speaking up, "Hmm, I'm certain he did." Hakoda coughed into his fist and looked away, looking embarrassed. "Regardless, the moment the elders here were informed you were coming to meet with us, they called a council on the decision. Many have some very…mixed reactions to our esteemed Chief's idea to bring someone of the Fire Nation here, despite your bloodline. They respect him, but there are concerns still. You are the tipping point. You must speak with them, earnestly, and convince them you can be trusted," Kanna sighed slowly, turning to look over her shoulder at the town center, where a larger igloo was set apart from the others. "Trust and loyalty are among the most valued traits for the southern people. So appealing to these is the first thing you must do in order to be accepted here."

The older woman broke off and headed for the igloo, gesturing for Ursa to follow. As they walked, the older woman kept shooting Hakoda suspicious glances out of the corner of her eye, and the man was making a pointed effort not to make eye contact.

Hakoda stopped at the entrance, giving her an encouraging look, "This is as far as I can go. Convincing the elders is up to you now, Ursa." Even though he didn't go into detail, the woman read the message in his eyes clearly enough; he was too close to the issue to have a say beyond what he'd already done. It was a check on the Chief's power that she was unused to back home.

Either way, Ursa nodded and stepped onward, moving the fur covering to follow Kanna inside.

The chamber was a looming space, presumably for town meetings and celebrations, and much of the village could probably fit comfortably inside. Before her on the far side of the igloo, the council was a small-ish half circle of a dozen elder men and women, including Kanna who took her place on the far, right side. Blue banners circled them, marked with the emblem of the Water Tribe and tied around the poles of ceremonial spears impaled in the ice. Each of the elders were sitting on a thick pallet of fur, while a thirteenth, empty one sat a couple meters in front of them.

Ursa took the invitation for what it was, taking her place before the council. Despite the buildup, both Hakoda and his friend had insisted that she would be fine if she was honest, and Ursa had confidence that they were correct. Who would know better?

"Lady Ursa," One of the men began to speak, beard and hair tied and frosted white with age. "We are aware of your pedigree by the boon of our Chieftain's messages, of the value you held as a woman due to marry into the royal family, and your family's current status of wealth and prosperity. But we do not know you, or what motivates you. Who are you, and why did you come to our homeland, Fire Nation native as you are?"

Ursa paused, thinking on how best to satisfy them, "Where would you like me to start, Sir?"

From the beginning," The man intoned, and the woman braced herself for another long tale.

She started back, back when her family had received the summons and a hefty dowry to pay for her hand in marriage, and how–at the time–it was considered to be such a great honor. Ursa had been…ambivalent about the arrangement she remembered, and now it seemed like a relief to be from it, knowing who she had met instead. Ursa didn't really touch on her feelings for Hakoda though, she wasn't sure how it would be received yet. Instead the woman talked about the things the man had shown her, the world as it was, and how her opinions changed over time.

Ursa couldn't hate her home, she just couldn't. But this war should have ended a long time ago, long before it caused such devastation, and having the perspective given to her helped to see that. Ursa told them that coming to the South was her idea, that she had come to respect them and wanted to learn more about the people and region from where Hakoda came from. Outside of her interest in him, this at least, was true.

Ursa's impassioned speech ended with the elders deliberating amongst themselves for a time in hushed voices, then turned their attention back toward her. "Ursa of the Fire Nation," The first man spoke again, "In light of the Chief's efforts and your story, we have decided to grant you asylum in the tribe." The declaration sent the built up tension from the woman's body washing away. But before she could get too excited he continued, "However, know that this is a privilege, not a right, and can be taken away at the first sign that you prove undeserving of our people's trust and respect. You will be watched by one of the elders for a time to be certain of your sincerity and after which we will discuss what you will be doing here in the tribe." With that pronouncement completed, the circle rose to their feet and exited the igloo.

All except for one.

Kanna was still seated in place, watching Ursa carefully. Out of all the elders, Ursa was the most wary by this one, she was the mother after all.

"Was…there something else?"

Kanna just nodded adjusting her hands in her lap and meeting Ursa's eyes head-on, with eyes that burned with a protective inner fire despite her age, "Yes, there is something. A very important conversation that should only be shared between you and me. Hakoda is romantically interested in you, isn't that right?" She didn't hesitate, and didn't mince words.

Ursa straightened up in surprise, "What?! He already told you–"

"Hakoda hasn't told me a thing, yet. But I can see it in his face, the way Hakoda looks at you, and the way you respond to him. Besides, he is my son. I know him well enough that he could never hide that kind of bond from me…" Kanna's gaze softened, interlocking her fingers thoughtfully. "So…I wanted to address those feelings with you first before he rejoined us here."

Ursa paused, thinking quickly to herself and knowing that she'd passed over some important decorum in her pursuit of the Chief. But in her defense, she never expected to meet her…. "Do you disapprove?"

"I don't know you well enough yet to pass judgement, and even if that were the case, this is something too personal to Hakoda for me to stop or forbid. He's not been a child for me to guide for a long time, long before he became Chief and I trust Hakoda to have thought his decision to get involved with you through. If we lived in the northern pole and adhered to the customs there, it would be a different story. The Chief would be expected to choose a bride from a powerful family or one laden with benders," Kanna looked at her wryly, "though you do successfully hit those points, at least. If you were Water Tribe, I actually doubt they would even mind."

The Northern Water Tribe was a strange topic to brush, untouched by war for decades, locked away by a fortress of ice and filled with waterbenders. The people that Fire Lord Azulon had never managed to reach and break down. Ursa wondered how the southerners managed not to hate them, damaged as they were and left unaided for so long. But it helped somewhat, knowing how different the distant cousins were from the Southern Water Tribe, how the culture that would have impeded her there wasn't a problem here.

"No," Kanna continued, her expression becoming more somber, "what concerns me is that…I'm worried that Hakoda isn't ready to risk his emotions again."

"…Again?"

Kanna didn't answer for a moment, looking away at the slopes of the domed wall, the Water Tribe symbols etched into their surface. "You must not repeat what I'm about to tell you. Normally I wouldn't broach this topic but," The old woman turned back, face deeply serious, "I'm only telling you to use caution, and I know Hakoda will never speak of it." She sighed quietly, faintly sad. "You are not the first woman that our young Chief has fallen for, to catch his heart, but she was taken away…. And not one of ours taken by the black ships ever returns."

The realization settled like a heavy weight on Ursa's mind. Oh, he was in love.

"Everyone knows each other in the Water Tribe, one way or another. But he never managed to confess the true depth of his feelings to her before she was lost to us," Kanna said.

"I never knew who it was…but on the first few times we talked, he spoke like a man who had lost someone. But I never knew it was love." Ursa admitted. Back then she had been looking for advantages, ways to get a verbal leg up on their interactions. It was probably a good thing in the end that she never knew what the true shape of his motivations were.

Kanna huffed, rising to her feet and waiting as Ursa did the same, "Hakoda is a careful man, and you are Fire Nation. Even now, even trusting you the way he does, these wounds aren't things he's keen to share." The two of them moved to the entranceway, and the elder gripped the hide cover hard between her fingers before pulling it aside, "All I'm asking is to be cautious with your words. Don't tear open any scars. I don't want to see that pain again."

Kanna stepped out alone, leaving Ursa staring at where she'd left.

* * *

The Southern Water Tribe was a busy place. The village was in constant motion, either from the adults working on their daily chores both inside or outside the walls, or the children that ran from end of the snowy town to the other. The men hunted and fished outside, worked on repairing the outer from wear and tear, and scouted beyond the reaches of the village on the boats to keep warned of any possible surprise attacks. Women built, stitching together tents, canoes, nets, and clothes for use throughout the population.

And the kids, well when they weren't learning from their elders, they played. The entire adult population essentially acted as babysitters for the younger generation if the parents needed it, watching as the children went from house to house unhindered. The openness and trust in the community allowed them to move with such seemingly worryless play. But beneath the innocent surface, everyone in the south knew that they were practically at war.

Ursa watched curiously from the doorway as they went, bundled up thickly in her russet furs, a spot of dark clothes and pale skin in a veritable sea of blue and deep tan. She had taken up temporary residence in a guest house near to the Chief's (though it didn't stop him from spending a lot of time with her anyway), and Kanna had taken steps to make sure she had resources until she got acclimated. Of course, it would cause a big stir if she immediately moved in with Chief Hakoda right after getting off the boat.

For a time, Ursa met the southern weather with illness and weakness. She pulled through and eventually acclimated to the climate but was left debilitated for weeks until she felt strong enough to venture outside again.

She remembered Hakoda hovering worriedly nearby so often he had to be chased off by Kanna and her healer. They chastised him for not attending to his duties, and that Ursa would be fine. The healer had told the woman that other foreigners fared much worse in comparison, and only after the fact did Ursa appreciate it.

And it may be that her inner fire had helped a little too.

After Ursa recovered, Kanna started to teach her all about duties around the village, what she could contribute to, how she could help. Ursa couldn't do nothing. There was no such thing as nobility in the Southern Tribe, and if there ever used to be, nobody remembered or needed it. (Of course there were nobles in the metaphorical sense, Ursa reflected, thinking of Hakoda and chivalry on the sea that men back home failed to show.)

The work was new, and tough, and it didn't take long for blisters to break out on her hands from a layer a physical labor she was never accustomed to undertaking.

Kanna wrapped them in a poultice and said that learning to do hands-on work after so long without it was a challenge in of itself. She had to take things slowly. Injuries were nothing if not expected in her situation. But as Ursa tended to her stinging fingers, now so removed from the soft noble's hands she remembered before…all of this, she found herself wondering about something else. For the past month she'd been putting on weight without much explanation.

Except that there was an explanation, a very big one that Ursa wasn't prepared for.

Combined with the sickness that hadn't entirely gone away, even after all the time Ursa had put into trying to adjust to the snow, she couldn't think of anything else it could be. Under the parka, it wasn't very noticeable, but Ursa knew that she couldn't hide it forever. If she had gone to the Fire Nation, it would be expected from her of course. But still….

It was Kanna that Ursa went to in the end, confessing about her condition and the cause.

"You're pregnant? So soon?" The old woman asked her, sounding more exasperated than angry. "By that timeline, it would have to have been soon before you arrived here, or just after…and I'm guessing on the former. Hmm, maybe Hakoda is more rash than I expected." There was definitely a level of frustration in that voice. Kanna told her in no uncertain terms that Hakoda had to be told immediately, and sent for him to come to the tent with the healer. "No good will come from being secretive. The council will put up less of a fuss over this than they did for the first day you came here, but I'll handle smoothing things over with them. Get some rest and don't wait up for Hakoda! You're not completely well yet, he'll understand."

Blown away by the whirlwind of activity from the older woman, Ursa didn't have the energy to argue, bundling herself down to rest and dozing off.

Hakoda was knelt down at her side when Ursa awoke. He had a strained look on his face like he'd been waiting on pins and needles for her to wake up. She didn't even have to guess what the first words out of his mouth would be, "Are we really going to have a child?"

"Seems so," Ursa said, still dazed from sleep.

The distance didn't bother Hakoda. He looked downright delighted, in contrast to her anxiety. And he reached down to draw her into an embrace, remaining gentle despite the obvious excitement flowing from him. Ursa smiled faintly, and settled into the crook of his neck.

She would let him have this. There would be plenty of time to panic later.

–

Ursa was moved into the Chief's quarters soon after the news of her condition became apparent. Hakoda insisted on it, both because having her separate from him when there was no doubt as to the father would cause problems and she would be more comfortable there. (To an extent, she was aware that Hakoda didn't really live much more highly than the rest of the village, but having him there with her more worked wonders.)

Ursa found herself growing used to the south week after week, month after month, even after she could no longer get around the village as well as she used to.

Hakoda was on edge for a time though, unsettled by the complete lack of any Fire Nation ships within their territory. Apparently the black patrols didn't attack often or regularly, but impeded on Water Tribe territory so often it was an act of aggression all by itself. Ursa caught him conversing with Bato on the matter only once, saying how strange it was that they pulled so far back for so long with no sign of returning. "I don't like this. I don't like not knowing why their movements have suddenly changed like this," The Chief said, reading over the patrol reports.

"This is good though, right?" Bato insisted, hushed. "The last thing we need right now is an attack. Especially not with who is here now."

"Not until I know why," Hakoda said, eyes narrowing on the horizon warily.

Ursa hadn't said anything about it. She didn't know any better than him; if it had anything to do with her the Fire Nation would be invading, not pulling back. She focused on work as distraction. Kanna was as patient as she could be with Ursa's fragile fingers as she learn to weave fishing nets, staying indoors more often now instead of watching the children as they roamed outside.

And beyond that….

Hakoda married her during the mid-point of her third trimester.

Neither of them had originally pushed for it–though for Ursa marriage was a far less alarming affair than children, having calmly submitted to it before without complaint. But Hakoda was uneasy about pushing her. No, the idea came from Kanna and the rest of the elders. She said that unwed parents were a major problem that wouldn't be looked kindly upon in the Tribe.

Ursa didn't mind that though. She acquiesced quietly when the request came through to her, and promptly went back to her nap. She already knew she loved the man. Marriage was just a social contract of sorts to make that commitment solid.

It was a quiet affair at that. At least, comparatively speaking.

Hakoda held a celebration in the village meeting hall, called back the patrols for the gathering, and danced with her under the light of the moon. So, in comparison to Fire Nation weddings, almost barren. Yet the people were happier.

Ursa counted down the days, one by one and time blurred, until her inevitable child was born.

None of them had been caught off-guard. Ursa had been spending the past few days inside, relaxing in preparation, with the healer waiting in the wings. She just breathed out a harsh breath and said, "It's time," when the water broke and soon after when the contractions started.

It lasted for hours into the night.

Ursa was sweating like mad, gritting her teeth against the pain that never seemed to stop.

She would find out much later that hers was a long and worrisome pregnancy, that Kanna had been half-convinced that the baby wouldn't make it. Hakoda had waited for hours outside, and nothing could convince him to be moved until everything was over.

Her firstborn child was a boy, howling at the top of his tiny lungs the moment he was pulled into view and found his voice. The first cry sent Hakoda rushing back inside. He had Ursa's fair skin and Hakoda's ice blue eyes; the contrast between the two traits almost made the baby look almost ghostly to her at first. Ursa couldn't help but loving him immediately despite herself.

She passed out several times as the exhaustion of the ordeal swept over her, but every time she awoke Ursa found Hakoda sitting as close to her side as possible, supporting their child. His eyes were hazy with sleep-deprivation, but refused to rest no matter how many times he was asked. And though she was too tired to say, Ursa knew she'd need him now more than ever. It wasn't until Ursa was rested and alert enough to not need help that he finally started to drift off, leaning on his arm and resting beside her quietly.

"What do you want to name him?" Ursa asked, addressing the man who'd collapsed at her side.

"Whatever you want," Hakoda replied, still half asleep and barely aware.

Ursa considered him, her son wrapped up in a bundle and peering up her with bright blue eyes. The baby had shouted so fiercely, loud and desperate to be heard. And…there was enough Water Tribe in him that no one should immediately assume exactly what blood besides that ran through his veins, only that it was mixed. But he was both southern and of her homeland, and she wanted to preserve part of that. A Fire Nation name, one tempered in ferocity and energy.

"How about…Zuko?" Ursa exchanged a glance with Hakoda, who shot her an encouraging look before drifting back off to sleep.

Zuko it was then.

* * *

Over the next few weeks and months, Ursa found herself getting more and more frazzled, having never prepared for the possibility of children despite thinking through her relationship with the Chief. All of that was biting her in the back after all.

She busied herself with learning from Kanna and the rest of the women around the village. Ursa never prepared for the labors of raising a child before coming to the southern pole, and unlike back home, she wouldn't have the luxury of a family caretaker. Just handling Zuko's nonexistent sleep schedule was running her ragged in so many ways; she didn't know how the other women, with multiple young children at once, could deal with it and make it seem so easy. Ursa started losing sleep more and more, until it almost became normal.

Zuko was a loud child, and hearing the villagers comment on the size of his lungs was a repeat event that lost its allure quickly. Many times the aforementioned voice was what brought her back to awareness in the middle of the night when she was supposed to be sleeping. Ursa had no idea how Hakoda managed to be so well-adjusted to deal with it.

But humans can adjust to almost anything given time.

Zuko was getting older, growing out the first signs of a mane of dark, messy hair. It was the beginnings of a thick man like his father's, they could tell. He was walking before she knew it, now able to get underfoot whenever the opportunity presented it itself. They celebrated every milestone he underwent, but at the time Ursa wasn't aware of deeply intertwined she was with the Fire Nation's concept of heirs and the first-born.

No, that came much later, after Ursa became pregnant with her second child.

Just like the first time, she hadn't planned for it, even if Hakoda had off-handedly made mention of wanting a second child. The only planning they did was have Zuko stay with Kanna for a while so the pair could have a break for while. Ursa was almost disappointed with her own lack of forethought. It had something to do with that strange way that the Water Tribe had of going off the rails, that led her astray. That continued to rattle her even now.

By the time she was nearing the tail end of her pregnancy, Zuko had his second birthday, and entered into what Hakoda had called the 'terrible twos.' He was grumbling and sulking about not wanting a sibling, kicking his feet and throwing snowballs at the walls. Hakoda took him aside for a talk while Ursa was laid up in bed.

The second birth was, if anything, even tougher than the first. Kanna called in another healer to see to her in shifts just to make sure nothing went wrong. She never said it out loud, but Ursa could tell this time that she really was worried.

Despite the strain, she pulled through, hazy-eyed and quiet as she laid eyes on her daughter.

Like Zuko, she was fair with blue eyes, but of a deeper, more intense color than his. Ursa didn't know why, but she didn't get the same feeling that she did before. "She looks like you," Hakoda commented after everything was over, speaking in a whisper next to her so as not to wake their sleeping son huddled in a corner of the bed. "Besides the color of her eyes, there's not much Water Tribe in her at all," From the amused quirk in his lips, he wasn't really upset about that.

Ursa tried not to frown. It was hard to explain why, but passing her face down wasn't something that brought her much satisfaction. "Do you want to name her this time?"

"Hmm, don't know if that's a good idea. I'm not the best with naming; just ask Bato, I'd probably come up with something silly anyway," The man admitted, laughing to himself. "You should probably come up with something again instead of me."

Ursa looked away. She couldn't get out of it then. The only names she could come up with were Fire Nation ones normally, and nothing else would fit a girl who looked just like her. The only trait that prevented her from being so obviously Fire Nation were those blue eyes…. And that in of itself was an idea. "…Azula," Ursa started, only half-aware she was speaking.

Hakoda stared at her with a look that was mostly confusion, "No offense, but…that's a bit close to another name I'm not fond of."

"No, I didn't mean it like that," She started, "the name means 'blue' and well…her eyes are the most distinctive part of her." Ursa wasn't wrong about that at all; they were kind of hard for her to miss. "And, to be perfectly honest, for someone to name a Water Tribe child this way is really more of an insult against the Fire Lord than anything else."

Hakoda just considered that for a moment and then sighed, "You really are a bad influence on me aren't you? All that we need now to complete the irony factor is for her to be a waterbender."

As it turned out, as if the spirits had heard him, she was.

At the age of two, when she was entering into the fussiest stage (though Azula was far quieter than her brother, to the point that Hakoda checked on her often to make sure she hadn't snuck off somewhere), the small girl displayed her bending for the first time. It was only messily dousing her brother's shoes, but Hakoda was in awe of it. And so was the rest of the village. It didn't matter anymore that Azula looked more Fire Nation than Water Tribe; she was a bender, and that alone was priceless to them.

But Ursa wasn't completely at ease with it. Surely that talent should have gone to Zuko first?

And it did, eventually. It took another year, when the children were five and three respectively for her son to bend on his own, also water. Her firebender blood had less pull over them than Ursa had suspected it would. Either way, time began to blur for her in the South. Besides the growth of the children, events moved onward smoothly, without any outside interference. It seemed that the Fire Nation really had pulled back their ships, but no one knew why.

The children started to bicker as they got older. Ursa disapproved of the fighting, but Hakoda mediated more often than her. She believed that the–often unnaturally quiet–Azula was the one who instigated the fights between them. Hakoda (with a uncharacteristically stern face) claimed that Zuko was getting more aggressive and escalating things, even getting mad at him when Hakoda wouldn't pick sides, but Ursa wasn't sure if she fully believed it. And anyway, he didn't act like that around her.

Going back and forth between them was wearing Hakoda down. She could see it in the increased lines in his face. But there wasn't much that could be done.

And it was the job of the father to discipline his children if need be.

Time passed, and while the Southern Water Tribe was left unharmed, the war was heating up again in the Earth Kingdom enough to draw their notice. The South had thrown in their lot with the Earth Kingdom, even if neither they nor the Fire Nation was really aware of how far their participation went. And there was only so much that Hakoda, acting Chief that he was, could do for them left behind in the village. Ursa didn't like it, but she knew that eventually he'd have to leave again. In a few years, or a few months, it would happen. Though she was far more prepared to be separated from her husband than the kids would be, when they found out.

But on the eve of Zuko's eighth birthday, an occurrence took place that managed to effectively distract the whole family from the war's advance.

It came in the form of a battered lifeboat drifting ashore one day.

The warriors in the village pulled the drifting wreckage in, and found only a single man on board. Careful but unable to ignore it, the healers cleared out a simple tent and laid him to rest there, and all of a sudden, the village was once again buzzing with activity. Ursa saw the make of the liferaft just as well as any of the warriors, and knew without a doubt that it was of Fire Nation origin. That alone piqued her curiosity enough to want to learn about the survivor of what must have been an intense battle.

The tent was guarded on the outside by two warriors even though the man inside had yet to awake, but they allowed her to pull back the cover just enough to see inside.

Ursa wasn't expecting to recognize him though.

She'd seen his profile painted on bulletins in the past, complete with odes praising the military might of the Fire Nation.

Even older and torn from injury, Ursa _knew_ who he was.

And the realization of being confronted with her old world frightened her.

She wondered then, how Hakoda would react when he found out Crown Prince Iroh, Dragon of the West, had washed up on their village.

* * *

 _(A/N: And so ends Ursa's prologue. The next chapter will conclude Kya's prologue–running parallel to this one–and then the meat of the story will begin.)_


	4. Trial by Fire

( _Warnings for this chapter: Fire Nation focus, racism, child abuse, dysfunctional parenting)_

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Being involved with the Royal family was like a war of attrition.

Kya knew from the moment she accepted the Prince's "proposal" and gave herself to that fate, she knew that this relationship would be one of compromise, and she was quickly proven correct. In order to get anything from Ozai, she had to surrender something else in response, even if it were just something as innocuous as her time or assorted favors. But the man himself was far from the worst part of it all.

Ozai had simple goals and desires, and it wasn't too complicated for Kya to learn how to deal with him. The simple fact of the matter was that his attachment came with a need for attention. Every time Kya thought about his background, and what passed for a family in the Fire Nation royal family, it made more and more sense to her. It certainly didn't erase his flaws, and Kya was far from forgetting about the circumstances behind her ending up with him, but understanding her surroundings was the first step to controlling them. It made too much sense for someone who was sired by Fire Lord Azulon to have issues, the only thing she knew about Ozai's mother was that she had been deceased for a long time, and the Crown Prince was considerably older and hardly ever around. There wasn't really anyone else beyond that.

While the world moved and changed with war, the Prince did not.

Granted, it wasn't as though he fought very hard for those bonds. The Fire Lord and Crown Prince had already earned his ire (questionably in some respects, given the subject matter of his rants, but still earned as far as Ozai was concerned). And as far as Kya knew, there was no one else in the palace that Ozai regularly interacted with outside of some sparse military contacts and politicians. He was a dour loner underneath all the glitter and gold.

As if to make up for that, Ozai couldn't seem to leave Kya alone for very long.

But she could handle him.

Ozai's behavior loosened with time, and from the moment that Kya had accepted his 'proposal,' she received more privileges in the palace. Her schedule was no longer so strict as to confine her to her room at specific times of the day, and the guard gave her more distance and privacy in the library and gardens. If she tried hard enough, Kya could pretend that she really was alone.

Though Kya's nature a sociable Water Tribe eventually won out. She started striking up conversations with the guards and maids that frequented her room and took her to and fro around the palace grounds. The regular staff had been polite enough to her throughout their job–as they were probably trained to be–but started talking back as time passed. As Kya learned their names and behaviors, aspects of their personal lives slipped into those conversations as well, much to her surprise.

She asked her servers about the types of food they liked, that they could recommend. Kya was concerned for the maid fluffing her pillows with dark-circled eyes, telling her to put some incense on before bed for better night's sleep. Out of all the attendants, she was most fond of the young guardsman that served as one of her escorts, a barely warrior-age individual named Fei. He picked out books from the library he thought she'd like, and Kya gave him what she hoped passed as advice for Fei's fledgling crush on a fellow soldier.

Even so far away from home, Kya used what freedom she had to build her own community.

But all of this newfound freedom hinted at something more worrisome, something that had to be true for Ozai to consider an action as public as a marriage.

Namely, that the Fire Lord was aware of her presence there.

Kya knew on some level, that it was inevitable for her to be discovered eventually, but compared to his father, she wasn't threatened by Ozai at all. Especially with how obvious he was with everything. And she didn't feel at all comfortable knowing that the only reason for her increased freedoms following the proposal was because there was no one to hide her from anymore.

At the same time, preparations were underway for Prince Ozai's upcoming wedding to Kya.

Before his original fiancee disappeared, servants and guards in the capital had already been in the process of preparing their wedding. They'd been gathering guests, setting aside and preparing a venue, and securing an extensive list of guests for the occasion. Now that the woman who was supposed to be in the capital was gone, and Kya was being married in her place, some details needed to be changed and redone, partygoers and servers who had to be informed as to the changes taking place.

Ozai even swept in once or twice to offer his "suggestions" for decorating the venue. It all seemed terribly formal and unnecessary from Kya's perspective, and she confessed that she knew nothing about the specifications; weddings weren't planned to the extensive level in the southern tribe that they were in the Fire Nation. Partly, she felt disappointed in herself. Kya had gone out of her way to demand busy-work before, but now she couldn't do anything but be as stagnant as the nobility she so tried to avoid becoming. The Water Tribe had dresses and finery (such as they were) for such occasions, yes, but none so elaborate or brimming with precious metals, like the gold leaf pressed into Kya's formal headdress.

The Prince hummed thoughtfully at the knowledge that there wasn't much she could contribute, but brushed it off idly. In this instance, he didn't seem to mind putting in his own effort. Ozai enjoyed his expensive tastes, his luxury, and knew enough about them to actually be useful. Kya was unused to the novelty of a man being so…fashionably minded.

But she didn't have much time to think about the idea.

One day Ozai was a whirlwind of activity, seeming excited as the important day grew near, the next he was visiting her chambers with an expression on his face that could only be called grave, shooing out the maid who'd been helping Kya with her new dress in the process.

Kya hadn't expected to see him. From what the books and the servants told her, the Fire Nation had an 'issue' with the bride and groom seeing each other alone so close before the marriage. It considered uncouth. She supposed it hardly mattered in the end.

Ozai would do what Ozai wanted.

That was why she was here in the first place after all.

From the serious look on his face, Kya could guess than something had gone wrong, or at least, not according to his plans. The woman found herself tensing up instinctively, setting aside the comb she'd been using to fix her hair once freed from the complex headdress.

The man gestured for her to take a seat on the sofa in her quickly-becoming-unnecessary guest room, and pulled up a chair to sit down nearby. "Unfortunately, we have ourselves a problem before we can go ahead with our upcoming marriage," He paused for a moment, unusually hesitant, and his pause caused a rise of nervousness in Kya as well. "My father has demanded that you speak to him this afternoon in the audience chamber."

Kya froze, her hands clenched into fists at the pronouncement. The very thought of being face to face with the Fire Lord sent her instincts rushing into fight or flight mode.

"Why," Kya said, and the discomfort of his pronouncement was enough to jar her completely, and the word came out as nothing more than a flat, dull statement.

"Because…I know the Fire Lord more than I would like, and I know that he enjoys my discomfort," Ozai's lip curled in distaste. "And I know that he despises your kind the most."

Kya's nails dug into her own palms at that sentence, both anxious for her safety, and upset at the idea of being thought of as lesser simply for her blood. "What have we ever done to him?" Kya muttered, and the man offered no answer beyond a shrug of his shoulders. A waterbender never would have been let out of a cell where they could so much as glimpse the royal family, but for Azulon, her Water Tribe origins without that sort of power were enough to earn her scorn. It wasn't just to her people to be treated that way; when had the Water Tribe ever wronged him?

Kya couldn't bring herself to ask. Some part of her was already aware of the answer: that the Fire Lord hated her people not because of something they did, but because they existed.

But assuming was dangerous, and who knew what was really going on that man's head.

Her eyes were drawn back up when the Prince leaned forward in his chair, "I don't know what he wants to say to you, but if you provoke him in any way….Well, If you give the Fire Lord an excuse to strike you down, he will do it." Ozai offered out his hand to her, palm up, and the woman reach out to take it without thinking, steadying herself. "So let me give you some advice for dealing with my…father," Ozai's golden eyes were narrowed and serious. He seemed almost genuinely concerned. "First, do not say a single word to him unless he commands you to speak. Any sign of aggression must be avoided. Say nothing of the…favor I did for your hand; he will rescind it without hesitation if you are the one addressing it. I'm sure he ignored those orders because he wasn't getting anything out of it anymore.

And last of all, this is the most important of all the others, do not mention _anything_ relating to the past raids." The Prince stopped, his hand was unnaturally hot against her own, tense and stiff. Kya remembered how his bending seeped through his skin when Ozai's emotions flared; even when he looked calm, a fire was always burning just beneath the surface. The intensity here was definitely not one of anger, but it burned bright nonetheless. His brand of fire was hard for anyone to forget. "Do understand what I'm telling you?"

Kya's eyes closed and her grip tightened for a moment before letting go. "Yes, I do."

She knew there was no avoiding Azulon. Might as well get it over with.

Ozai helped her select a set of formal clothes from her expansive closet when it was time for her meeting with the Fire Lord, an extra layer more than she usually wore at least. It wasn't usually his way to help with them, but this time was different. Ozai stood close to her as he adjusted Kya's long sleeves, sliding the length of cloth down over her hands. It was a possessive touch that she was far too distracted from to really be bothered by at all. "Come back in one piece," Ozai said, and his kiss felt like a promise.

Kya was escorted to the audience chamber shortly thereafter, though the guards did not accompany her inside. Fei was one of them. His face was twisted into a worried cringe; even the guards themselves knew well how dangerous it was to carelessly approach the Fire Lord. Kya nodded at him and forced a smile with a bravery that she didn't truly feel, and stepped inside. The heavy door swung shut slowly behind her, like the jaws of a trap snapping shut.

Across the hall, supported by pillars raised far above on a high ceiling, Kya spied the occupied throne of Fire Lord Azulon.

The man himself was only a shadow, concealed by a towering inferno that walled him off from any eyes who tried to glimpse him, not unlike a curtain of flame. The barrier roared like a living thing as she approached, hungry and ferocious, and the sound more than drowned out the click of her shoes across the tiled floor. For a minute, the crackling fire was the only sound that filled the room, tension unbearably heavy as Kya made her way closer. And during that time, neither of them spoke a word. Kya was not eager not to do so at all. And the cold-blooded Fire Lord was busy sizing her up with barely visible eyes. When the woman was close enough to somewhat make out the form behind his bending wall (not that she particularly wanted to see him), she knelt down in a bow the way she remembered the attendants do so many times for Ozai.

After what seemed like forever, but was really only a minute or two (a wait that was tailor-made to keep her on edge), the wall of fire rolled back. The Fire Lord was white-haired and wizened from age, his frame was thin–and almost looked frail when compared to Ozai. But his countenance was as frigid as the coldest plane of ice in the South, eyes so empty that Kya had to work to suppress the shiver that crawled down her spine.

Eyes narrowed just enough to show his distaste, Fire Lord Azulon finally began to speak. "So…you are the spare Prince Ozai took into my palace with no warning. My youngest grows more erratic every year," His voice was cold, devoid of any more than the slightest inflection. "I hope that you thanked the Prince on bended knee for his _generosity_. You should thank whatever fragile spirits your people have to have been born without bending, otherwise, you would not have lived long enough for my son to make a reckless decision the way he did. I can promise you that. Still, such amenities are far more than what a _savage_ deserves."

Kya tensed to her core, but she didn't make a move other than to tighten her fists reflexively, enough that her nails dug painfully into her palms.

Ozai's warnings rang clear in her mind.

She didn't say a word.

The man tilted a head at her careful silence, before continuing on, seemingly unbothered. Not that it was easy to tell. Kya braced herself for whatever he had to say next. And yet, despite that, she was surprised again. "Not to worry, I'll keep my promise to Ozai. Your future is secure. Unless, of course…you have the assassination already planned?"

And, with a direct question, she couldn't keep her silence going. "I-I beg your pardon?"

The towering flames burned white-hot for a moment for a moment before calming again, and the Fire Lord's voice came back as a modicum more clipped and harsh. "I know full-well what the snow-eaters' ultimate goal is: to depose me," Azulon raised his chin and stared down at her, as if daring her to disagree. Kya was inclined to do so if it was possible to without instantly signing her own death warrant. Was he was suggesting was…borderline paranoia. Unless something had drastically changed in the period of time since she'd been taken, the Southern Water Tribe had their hands full simply taking care of their own. Her people just didn't have the resources or the manpower to actually attempt to take down the Fire Lord, no matter how much they wanted to. And he certainly deserved it (not that Kya could stay that aloud). Unless, he was talking about…. "You'd love to try it, wouldn't you? The last attempt at resistance of a dying breed."

No, that wasn't true. She wouldn't do something like that.

Kya hated him just as much as any Tribesman did, that much was could be attested to. But the only times she'd picked up a weapon intending to harm another was done in self-defense. How could she ever consider taking up the mantle of an assassin? Either way, Kya had to answer. How was she to give a satisfactory response without angering him when everything he said was layered over threats and hatred? The only path for her was humility.

"I'm deeply sorry, Fire Lord, but I know nothing. I…I am merely Prince Ozai's fiancee. I no longer have any connection to Water Tribe politics," Kya said, fighting every instinct she had to keep her voice level and calm.

Azulon stared at her for a moment, presumably judging her honesty. He then gave a brief jerk of his head, a clear sign of dismissal if she ever saw one. But as Kya rose to her feet and turned to leave (eager to get out of his sight), the man called her to stop, "Before you go…" Kya didn't turn around, she couldn't. But as it turned out, he didn't order her to. "If you're truly so…unconnected to the south as you claim, then this information bother you at all, peasant. Your…countrymen, those your kind were so desperate to reclaim…they have been disposed of."

 _What?_ No, he couldn't be saying what she thought he was saying. One hand crept to the front of Kya's clothes, fingers tightening into the material just before her racing heart.

But…he just kept talking. "I had them incarcerated in the first place to keep those southern beasts at bay, as useful–but not truly needed–insurance if it were ever necessary." The suggestion of a self-satisfied sneer entered the man's voice, "But I think they've expended the last of their usefulness at this point. The waterbenders' prison was draining more resources than it was worth, and I have little interest in preserving relics of a bygone age. It was quite simple. I withdrew the guards, ended the delivery of supplies, and let the facility die. Perhaps, if I knew we'd end up simply recycling that prison, I wouldn't have wasted time with it in the first place."

The man paused, and Kya used that time to try to calm the racing of her heart, to no avail.

 _'_ _They were dead. All of them. The Southern Water Tribe never had a hope of seeing their stolen brethren again.'_ She had realized how unlikely it was, all too aware of the inability of rescue. But she didn't think they were _dead._ Her people always used the word 'lost' for a reason, but now…. Kya didn't want to think of them going out that way. In a cage. But, standing there in that wide open hall, hallway with no one nearby but a soulless Fire Lord, she couldn't help but imagine it. Her body was shaking faintly, and the prickling in her eyes told her that she was on the verge of tears. But she didn't want to break down in front of him, give him that satisfaction.

Azulon left another moment of silence, and Kya couldn't but feel that he was waiting for her to pull a knife and attack him. Prove his suspicions correct, and give him a free pass to get rid of her. Because there was no hope for Kya to be able to overcome him if she tried.

Finally, he seemed to have grown tired of her presence, "Get out. I don't want to see you here again." The flames flared hot on the woman's back as they moved back into place.

Kya did so gladly, her hand rising from her chest up to her mouth, muffling the beginnings of a sob under her fingers. Her finger slid over the door for a moment before she could get it open, slipping outside. The moment the door closed, Kya released a choked cry, forgetting for a moment the guards that had been waiting for her on the other side. The pair of them immediately set to work leading her away, Fei's voice whispering concerns while the other man kept a nervous silence. Kya was grateful, because without them it would be hard to find her way back to her rooms, as long as her vision was blurred with a buildup of tears.

When they arrived back, Ozai was waiting for her, and she caught a brief glimpse of his form tense in waiting before he noticed their arrival and came close. The Prince immediately demanded privacy for them, and her escorts left them alone.

Ozai's hands were Kya's shoulders a moment after, eyes roaming over her as if searching for some unseen injury. "What did he do? Are you…?" She shook her head, too distressed to articulate the words trapped in her throat, and trying to wipe the tears from her face. He seemed to take her denial as a reason to lean forward for a kiss. Kya wasn't sure whether it was fueled by a relief in her safety, or possessiveness, or both mixed into one. Likely the latter. Either way, she wasn't able to tolerate it. Not now, after who she'd spoken to and what she'd been told.

"No," Kya pushed him off of her. When the man made a vaguely frustrated noise and opened his mouth to speak, she blocked his words with her palm. "Not now…I can't…just let me talk for a while," Kya said, voice wobbling. "You always talk; just…let me this time…."

For once, Ozai did what she wanted. She told him what the Fire Lord told her, slowly and haltingly, in not so many words. Ozai didn't say anything in response, not that she would let him now. It wasn't like he could even really understand what she was feeling. But after so many times of the Prince using her as a means to vent his issues, he _owed_ her this.

At the end of it, she had no more energy to continue, pacing over to the bed and collapsing on top of it without even bothering to remove her layers. She was too tired to deal with it. The last thing Kya saw before drifting off to sleep was Ozai sitting at the far end of the bed, expression dark, lighting the stick of incense on the bedside table with a cursory flick of his fingers.

The scent of lilies and spice filling the room chased away dreams from her restless mind.

* * *

In contrast to all the work that went into preparing for it, the day of Kya's wedding was, in the way of royalty, a constant procession of formal celebration.

Early in the whole morning hours, well before she was usually disturbed, Kya stirred, finding the maids already filing inside the door. She was dressed quickly and politely led out from her room, surrounded by a procession of attendants. All of them seemed to be in too much of a hurry to really tell her where they were going, but the women who'd grown accustomed to Kya's social presence smiled pleasantly at her at their first greeting.

The path they took was down to the ground floor of the palace, and shockingly enough, out to the front entrance. Kya hadn't really left the palace in so long besides her trips to the garden, that she'd forgotten the sprawl of the city just outside. For only a moment, her feet hesitated on the threshold, rendered more uncertain by the reminder of the world outside she'd missed so much.

Not far from the front entryway, a palanquin was settled on the plaza, a group of guards and servants for carrying the litter clustered around the expensive litter waiting for her. When Kya had first seen it, she had dismissed it has something that was nothing but an unnecessary status symbol, and not something that would ever be reserved for her. But now…things had changed with the wedding. She almost wanted to question it, but there wasn't much point. Kya was helped up into the seat inside and the curtains swung shut around her, sunlight streaming through the red and gold cloth. She settled into the too soft cushion as the palanquin tilted into motion, rocking smoothly with the practiced steps of the bearers.

It was almost soothing. Private.

She closed her eyes in the seclusion of her seat and imagined that she was on a boat, rolling and rocking methodically on the embrace of the sea.

When the trip came to a stop and Kya had stepped down out of the litter, she was ushered inside of another building, where the guards stopped and formed a line outside. This one was much shorter than the palace–only a few stories tall–and elegantly decorated to be beautiful in contrast to the intimidating might of the palace. The room she was led into was closed with a door made mostly of a colorful screen than wood, with images of bright orange dragons roaming across their surface. On a table just inside was a redwood box the maids opened to reveal a beautiful gown in red and cream that Kya immediately knew would be her wedding dress. They pulled out the silky clothes and the rest of the morning hour revolved around the maids helping Kya into her elaborate wedding gown. The cream-colored cloth was over-warm for the weather and heavy on her body, and the sash was tight across her middle. They pinned ornaments into her hair and pulled up the brown locks to secure in place with a shiny hairpiece. Makeup was padded over her cheeks, only the thinnest layer (the maids allegedly admired the lack of blemishes on her skin, but Kya knew full well she wasn't as soft-skinned as any Fire Nation noble lady) as opposed to the dark lipstick applied with even strokes.

The woman's face stared back at her from a hand mirror, almost unrecognizable to the Southern Water Tribe mentality she carried. Only her blue eyes broke a hole in the illusion her garb created, until of course the sheer white veil was dropped down over her face.

When she was dressed and ready, she was led away from the preparatory room and up a staircase and across a balcony corridor. The atrium floor below was already one of celebration, but the poised, controlled kind Kya had come to expect from the Fire Nation nobility. Melodious music filled the air as a band played to a gathering crowd of upper class guests who were ushered inside by the guards. A few of them looked up to see her procession moving overhead, gesturing and whispering to one another, and the woman angled her face away from their gazes subconsciously. Kya wondered, with his prickly personality, how many of these people even knew the Prince at all.

There was a small waiting room before the next hall where her escort stopped. The servants there obsessively checked over her makeup to make sure it was "correct" before leading her into the next hall.

People were already filing into the seats that filled the massive room. Kya made her way down the balcony steps and across a deep red carpet up to the altar at the far end. She glanced briefly over the guests and looked away. Of course the Fire Lord didn't bother to show up.

Ozai met her at the other side, dressed formally in scarlet and inky black, extending his hand in a gesture to come closer. Kya exhaled slowly and did so, and the attendants at her side dispersed to the side to frame the proceedings. Kya recognized the garb of the man that stood before them from the history books she'd skimmed; he was one of the elder Fire Sages, the man who would officiate them in the law of the Fire Nation. Like one of her elder council.

But as the sage started to recite the vows, Kya instead watched the Prince out of the corner of her eye. He was standing there proudly, with the air of a man who didn't regret a single choice he made. Kya looked away, anxious at the path spreading out before her. She chose this.

She had tuned out the man's speech, but was aware enough of when it ended to straighten to attention when it ended and Ozai turned toward her. He lifted back the veil and his golden eyes froze her in place with their intensity. It was just like the first time they met.

Kya wasn't afraid of the man with golden eyes. She chose this.

They met together in a fluid motion, sealing their contract with a kiss.

* * *

From then on, Kya's relation with the Prince entered the public sphere.

Consort of the Second Prince of the Fire Nation. Why was this her life? Although her heritage as Water Tribe wasn't announced to the world, it wasn't particularly hidden either. There was a measure of authority that came with her position, though she knew better than to think it could be used against the royal family. But that didn't mean it couldn't be useful for other means.

At least, Kya used her influence to help the attendants around her in various ways, and promoted Fei up to her personal guard. He was one of the bright spots of her life in the palace, and looked forward to speaking with him when the hours ran slow. The young man confessed that her advice for him had been successful and was now dating a soldier entering the navy. All the history books in the library couldn't acclimate Kya to the Fire Nation culture the way he could, and there were so many aspects outside the war that were revealed to her through him. And she needed that more than ever. Especially now that Kya was edging into the public eye.

She was taken out of the palace more often, for whatever outing Ozai found appropriate. But none of this was done without a personal escort and opulent transportation, and however little the trip either of those was strictly necessary. It was stifling, but Kya had, perhaps unfortunately, grown used to that during the first month in the Fire Nation. Instead, she chose to enjoy the time outside her physical walls as much as possible. It was refreshing change of pace.

Even though the brief glimpses of violence and pain on the streets were enough to unsettle her.

But eventually, Ozai found a new focus for his interest, and it wasn't long before Kya was distracted from the less immediate things. The truth was that the Prince wanted a child.

Or more specifically, an heir. Someone to carry on his strength and legacy beyond himself.

It was the expected result of people in power, but Kya couldn't help but feel that he was rushing into things. It wasn't that she didn't want to have children; quite the opposite, and the many hours she'd spent in the south helping with the community's own cemented that interest. It was an easy future to imagine: contributing her own blood to the tribe with a warrior who loved her. But raising children in a faraway land, with a man she had only ended up with due to circumstance? Regardless, given how they were, Kya would end up with his child eventually, even if–up until now–Ozai hadn't been _trying_ to get her pregnant. Marriage was a promise to that.

She was on guard, and familiar with how the other women back home reacted when their bodies told them they were with child. Which was why Kya caught on to the signs so quickly.

The early morning illnesses, changing diet, and inconvenient mood swings made her certain.

Ozai reacted with an odd kind of pride when he found out; Kya just assumed it had to do with his own role in making it possible. It didn't matter really.

What mattered was that the attendants crowded her more than ever, insisting on handling more and more of her physical activities (after she had pulled so much to obtain them), and having her rest for longer hours. She was less fragile at that stage than they gave her credit for. Still, Kya had to make use of the time given to her, reading more and writing in her journals (having created more over the long time she'd spent with the Prince). Her handwriting had grown noticeably neater and straighter after so much practice. A far cry from the hard slashes before.

So she spent the weeks writing about everything, even as her body started trying to rebel against any small activity she tried to pursue. And the time blurred meaninglessly together.

When the time for the birth finally came, Kya's emotions were frazzled and unstable, pain coursing through her as her doctor and attendants filed in for her. She couldn't even lingered how unnecessary their number were, how very much like glass they were treating her, not in this state. Her mood was wild and tumultuous, and only worsened as the pain did. And when Ozai appeared at the door despite the doctor's insistence, Kya screamed at him to leave, every ounce of moderation she'd built for him scattered to the wind. Soon after that, she passed out, the strain on her emotions from her perspective somehow greater than that on her body.

When the woman awoke, dizzy and confused as if hungover, Ozai was standing over her. The man had that familiar spark of pride on his face again, and was brushing back Kya's tangled hair.

The midwife was next to him, her face smiling despite being dauded in sweat. "Congratulations, my Lady, it's a boy," She announced, breathing hard. But Kya had eyes only for the bundle in her hands. It didn't matter how tired she felt. The woman thrust out her arms for her child, her son, and the look in her eyes brooked no argument as the midwife complied.

"Oh," Kya said in a soft voice the moment the weight settled in her arms, the moment she saw him. He was beautiful. Her baby was Water Tribe tan and brown haired, with sharp golden eyes like his father. The same eyes that transfixed her, unable to look away. But unlike Ozai, there was a deep curiosity and wonder in them, like he needed to know everything in his sight. He grasped at her hands as tight his small body could, and Kya smiled, taken by that too. "You are so strong, my little warrior." She laughed, remembering those old, affectionate nicknames her people gave. It was true, her son may never hold a spear or see the ice, but the spirit of warriors still lingered in him.

When Ozai drew near, to look over his promised progeny, their son shifted his focus to clung to his father's large hand and wouldn't let him go. Ozai tilted his head in Kya's direction, gesturing down at the child, "Well he certainly has your face, Kya." Maybe. Kya didn't use a mirror very often, so perhaps he would know better. Only after when the baby's limited energy ran out and he fell asleep, could the Prince move his hand away. Gold met gold, one set of eyes open and innocent, wanting to know things he hadn't the vocabulary or understanding to describe.

Kya named him for that. She claimed that right; it was only fair after this had become her life.

Sokka, for Understanding. He was the first truly pure thing she was given in the Fire Nation.

Kya refused to let the midwife or the nursemaids take her son away from her for any length of time; she would care for him herself the way her people dictated.

* * *

When a few weeks passed in this manner, Ozai decided to take them away, on a vacation of sorts. It was something to help heal his wife's exhausted body and–though he spoke little on the subject–to escape the changing political machinations in the capital. Much later, Kya would learn that the Crown Prince had returned to the Fire Nation very recently, his retinue fat with success and tariffs from their conquered cities. Iroh's son, Ozai's only nephew, had graduated from the preparatory academy, soon to go into military training. Ozai wanted his child away from his brother's in these early days.

Thankfully, the hot, tropical place that Ozai took them to wiped away much of that stress. It was a place called Ember Island. A place of leisure amid a nation mired in war and poise.

Ozai took very few with them: a small detachment of guard who stayed in the side wing of their beach-house so they wouldn't encroach on the Prince's vacation, a single nursemaid, and Kya's personal guard (she soon found that Fei was surprisingly good with children). Besides, the cabin was well furnished in its own right. Not comparable to the palace, but still far more luxury than homes in the south. More than that, it was the locale that caught Kya off guard. Though she had lived for a time in the capital and experienced its heat, that was within the city's confines. A sandy beach with palm fronds waving in a pleasant breeze was far away from accustomed.

Ozai surprised her bringing her something to wear on the beach, insisting that she enjoy the shore, "I promise you'll enjoy it." Kya actually felt vaguely scandalized. The ink black 'outfit' was just about as revealing as underwear, but her smirking husband insisted that was the point. "You can't go swimming in these waters if you're weighed down by so many layers, Kya." Despite that, she tied a lacy, violet shawl around her waist, thin cloth waving in the gentle wind.

At least Sokka was enjoying the beach. Under careful supervision, he kicked up sand, drawn to the water's edge. Kya held him there as he sunk his toes in the sand, water washing over his feet. The expression on her child's face as he looked over his shoulder at her was heart-melting.

Then she was momentarily distracted when Ozai stripped down to his undergarments and joined them on the beach. Under direct sunlight like that, in the middle of the day, it was a very different sight. Kya was flustered and red when he took his place next to her.

No wonder he gave her that outfit. The man had no modesty at all.

But still, Kya had to admit that taking this trip was easily one of Ozai's better ideas.

With the assistance of her aide, Kya took some time for herself between the the constant responsibilities of caring for a child. Normally, she wouldn't have slackened in her duty. But after spending so much company with her attendants, Kya knew them personally and trusted them to look after Sokka while she rested. Fei in particular was an enthusiastic caretaker, telling her child all about old Fire Nation legends about fiery birds and kingly spirits. He was a great friend to Kya in helping to lighten the load.

That vacation should have been an easy one. What was a surprise in those days of relaxation was when, after a few months away, Kya was again pregnant with another child.

Their trip had to be cut off, as Prince Ozai returned to the palace with his wife and child, now on his way to be a father of two. To Kya, the passage of time seemed shorter this time, perhaps because of all the time she spent taking care of Sokka. The moment he figured out how to move around on his own, he was always getting underfoot. It would be good for him to have sibling around to keep him company. Hopefully it would help curb his energy.

The days passed quickly. Ozai had to return to his duties, and couldn't be there as often as he should be. Kya heard word had spread of her son to the Crown Prince and how he'd learned about her connection to Ozai. Little gifts of 'congratulation' were left at her quarters. And she occasionally saw him in the library, challenging guards at Pai Sho, gaze drifting her way.

Nervous about the new attention, Kya chose not to address him until Iroh left the capital again. She was overthinking things again. Iroh might have done that just to irritate his brother.

Either way, it was a relief to have him gone, and she could focus on other things.

Things like the birth of her second child. It was far easier this time, and she was at a loss as to why. Kya sent her attendants to summon Ozai to her side this time, and the man arrived not too long after, as the midwife started directing her through the final stretch.

As it turned out, Kya's second was a girl. She was crying her lungs out from the beginning, but quickly faded out into her mother's arms. She was also tan-skinned and had the noticeable Fire Nation eyes, but her eyes and hair were both a few shades darker than her brother's, fragile gaze closer to amber than gold. As Kya stared into them in wonder, those irises almost seemed to shine. Tired but nonetheless determined to look her over, Kya admired her quietly, "You've got stars in your eyes, little one."

The baby was tuckered out very quickly, asleep even before Ozai's curious hand touched her head. "An even set," The man said, sounding satisfied. "Do you have a name for her?"

Kya smoothed back her daughter's hair blearily, "I've got something in mind, yes."

Once, long ago, Kya had a grandmother on her father's side who had been a waterbender. They had been gone for a long, long time. Dead before even Azulon cut their lives short most likely. And since then her family line had been completely barren of benders. As it was, only through word of mouth did Kya even know who she was. But she was a worthy memorial all the same.

So Kya named her daughter Katara, to remember her lost people and the old blood in her line.

They deserved that much.

* * *

For a time, Kya had worried about how Ozai would fare as a parent, with his temperament. And for a while, it seemed it was alright. Ozai behaved like having children was an achievement at first, but he at least tried, didn't snap at her when Kya corrected him on how to hold a child. It was like he was curious about them, almost as much as the kids were of him. It wasn't perfect of course, few things could live up to the fantasy Kya had once imagined, but it was a start.

The day things truly changed was the day that Kya's daughter, the one she had named for her fallen waterbenders, first showed her that she was a firebender.

The irony was unbelievable.

At age three, Katara ran into the sitting room where Kya was writing in her latest journal, and tugged excitedly on her sleeve, wavy hair bouncing around her face. On the other side of the room, Sokka fiddled with a bit of tangled metal Fei got him from abroad; it was supposed to be some kind of puzzle whose pieces you could take apart one at a time. So far he hadn't been having much luck with it, but Kya didn't know enough about it to help much. "What is it, dear?" Kya said, putting down her booklet to give the toddler a gentle smile.

"I make light!" The girl said with a smile, and for a moment Kya's heartbeat jumped to her throat. Spirits, if she'd somehow managed to get into the fireworks again…. But before the woman could even start to interrogate her, Katara turned and thrust her hands into the air. A shower of red-orange sparks burst from the girl's palms, thankfully disintegrating before they could set the carpet aflame. Katara turned back around and grinned at her shocked mother, "See? Bright lights!" Sokka's puzzle clattered to the ground, forgotten as he stared at where the fire was.

For all her confidence at raising children, Kya had no knowledge of how to handle this. She sent for Ozai. It was the only thing she could do.

Katara was taken under the wing of her father and a select group of tutors who slowly began to teach her how to reign in her ability at a young age. At so young, there wasn't much she could do, but plans were made for her to have a set training schedule in the future when she was more developed. But even so young, Ozai commented that the latent talent in her was strong.

With their daughter's bender status realized, eyes began to shift to Sokka in turn, waiting for the day that he would also reveal his blood-born gift. It was assumed as a given that he would. Sokka was the son of royalty and the bender blood of the royal family was touted as stronger than any; surely this would guarantee a similar talent.

But no such spark showed itself.

The anxiety of the Prince was soothed by his advisers, who insisted that not all benders revealed their talents quickly. There was still plenty of time for Sokka to come into his own.

In the meantime, while Katara practiced ever increasing displays of bending, Sokka became determined to ignore her newfound talent. He took a sheaf of Kya's journal paper and a letter brush, and started using them to take up drawing, with rough, uncoordinated strikes of the brush. Kya thought that maybe he had the rough handwriting of his mother. She was about to stand up to look over what he was making. But this time, Ozai made it to him first.

Sokka looked up at him hopefully. Despite everything, the boy was drawn to his father. He followed the man around when he was near and told him what he was working on. Wanted to please him and for the most part, Ozai indulged him, seemingly amused or maybe flattered by the constant attention. This time, he slowly slid the brush from the young boy's grasp, and showed him how adjust the pressure so that the image was smoother and less blotchy. And to not mash the bristles into the paper.

Kya expression softened when she saw it. 'Doting' was far from the word she'd use to describe Ozai, but he was at least trying something. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

It was only just her luck that sentiment was soon to come crashing down.

* * *

 _Every year young Katara's strength and skill as a firebender grew, even at her age._

 _Ozai was proud of having such a talented daughter in the family, wondering just how far she could go, how much he could teach her and when. But with every thought about his second child, he was drawn back to the first. The few retainers who had been informed about his son's situation insisted time and again that benders' abilities appeared at different ages in their childhood. Ozai himself had not bent a flame until the age of six. He kept that to himself._

 _But as years passed, and Sokka turned seven, his hands remained barren of a spark._

 _When Kya looked away, Ozai fixed his son's back with an intense stare, waiting for him to prove his unsettled suspicions wrong. Waiting for him to bend._

 _He never did, and eventually, Ozai decided it was time to take things into his own hands._

 _Katara managed to convince her mother to join her for one of her training sessions, and it was a perfect opportunity. He led his son to a special room in the palace, one that stopped being frequented long ago. Bare of all furniture, the only thing of note in the fancily tiled floors was a golden bowl on a small carpet in the middle of the room. Elegant legs raised the bowl about six inches off the ground, and within the dish sat a handful of round, black coals. With barely a thought, Ozai set the coal ablaze and gestured for Sokka to come closer._

 _The boy did immediately. He wasn't nervous, why should he be? He was directed to kneel by the bowl, and his father did the same on the opposite side._

 _"_ _Do you know why you're here, Sokka?" Ozai asked him, voice heavy. His son shook his head slowly, but curious as ever. "This is an ancient rite of firebenders, one that…fell out of use. It's a test meant to bring out your inner fire, without outside distractions." Sokka leaned forward, eyes lighting up, eager to learn. They were bright eyes, maybe bright enough to hide the spark he should have. "Spread your hands before the fire, feel it, breathe with it. And then, direct it." For a moment, Sokka directed his attention to the flame, obediantly doing as he was told. But still nothing changed. "Well?"_

 _"_ _I…I'm trying, but I don't feel anything." He hesitated before continuing, "I don't think I can…."_

 _"_ _Of course you can," Ozai snapped, voice rising. "You are_ my son _and blood of the strongest firebenders in the world flows in you. No more excuses. Complete the task."_

 _A nervous light crept into Sokka's eyes as he went back to the fire, swiping his hands before the flames, getting more and more desperate with each passing second. Ozai watched him flounder, frustrated. Royalty produced benders, always. Azulon would not tolerate this kind of failure, and Ozai would be humiliated when the Fire Lord found out. He didn't have any more second chances._

 _Finally, losing his patience, Ozai got to his feet and stepped around the bowl to where the boy sat. Sokka looked up at him, hopeful perhaps, that whatever he was doing wrong could be corrected. Like his drawings, a technique he just hadn't grasped._

 _But there was a reason this test fell out of use._

 _Ozai knelt down next to him and took hold of the boy's wrists, stopping his movements. His son stared, confused. Ozai voice was harsh but quiet when he spoke, but Sokka would remember those words for years to come:_

 _"_ _You will bend, or you will burn."_

 _Ozai plunged Sokka's hands into the fire, and the boy's screams echoed through the hall._

* * *

"Ozai!"

The Prince was just finishing up from his evening training session when the yell came, with a flurry of footsteps. He didn't even get the chance to open his mouth to speak before Kya reached him, her open palm making contact with his face. The sound of the slap was incredible. But it didn't stop there. The moment Kya lowered her hand, face a mask of anger, she immediately launched into an accusation. "How could you be so reckless?!"

"Excuse me?" Ozai said, rearing back, his face stinging.

"You know what this is about. You took Sokka on some test that you _knew_ was dangerous, and didn't even bother to inform me!" The woman's expression changed into an agonized one, "The doctors told that if he'd been exposed for just a few moments longer, he wouldn't recover. Even now, Sokka will be lucky if he ever gets full mobility back in his fingers. Spirits, I can't believe you tried to hide this from me! I could have been there to make sure he was safe. There's no excuse for this, even if it was an accident!"

Ozai straightened up, brow furrowing in a faint confusion, "…What?"

Accident? No. _Sokka lied._

"Forget it, I can't even look at you right now…" Kya turned away, unable to continue.

But Ozai's next words stopped her in her tracks, "He failed the test, Kya. He's a nonbender."

The women whirled around, irritated by his change of subject, "And what does that matter, Ozai? So am I! You knew that from the beginning, what do you care if our son is too?" And in her case, it was the very reason she was still alive.

But Ozai wasn't done yet.

"And the Fire Lord? Do you think he won't care, Kya?" It was a poignant reminder. The memory of that cruel man stuck in her mind so easily. After so many years living in the palace, Kya was never again called to meet with him, even when their children were born. "In my father's eyes, without a fire, he'll be nothing more than Water Tribe. He'll think that you tainted the bloodline. I think we both know by now how much Azulon despises your people…. With the way he fussed over you, do you think the Fire Lord will tolerate a second Water Tribe in his palace? Do you think he won't hurt him, or worse?"

He was right. Azulon's hatred of the Water Tribe poisoned him against Kya from the start. If Sokka's heritage as Fire Nation was stripped from him simply because of that… "No, he won't. If…if Azulon wants to punish someone, he should punish me. You said yourself, he'll blame me for his blood, so he should hurt me so our son can be safe."

But at those words, Ozai's expression screwed up into one of distaste. "No," He said fiercely, "I will not sacrifice you."

"But you would sacrifice Sokka?!"

The Prince set his jaw, stubborn as can be, "Azulon will find out sooner or later, and then it will be out of my hands. He doesn't respect me or listen to a word I say any longer. Like it or not, I don't have the authority to contest him any more." Piece spoken, the man turned and pulled on the outer layers he'd shed while training. From his perspective, there was nothing left to do any longer. Ozai had risked his influence with Kya and came out the loser. When Azulon found out, the only thing left to do would be to wait to see if the Fire Lord signed Sokka's death warrant.

So absorbed was Ozai that he nearly didn't hear the whisper behind his back, "What if the Fire Lord had no choice but to listen to you?"

"What was that?" The man looked over his shoulder at her.

"I said, what if he had no choice…" Kya's expression was almost alien in that moment. Dull and desperate, like a wild animal driven into a corner. "Azulon can order you to do such things because he thinks your line is inferior already. Replaceable." Ozai's hands tightened into fists, but Kya ignored the action completely. She kept talking, disinterested in any of his objections, "But the Fire Lord would be stupid to send out those orders if you were the only heir he had."

Ozai tilted his head, thinking he hadn't heard correctly, "Are you suggesting assassinating the Fire Nation's Crown Prince, Lady Kya?"

That flat, dull behavior didn't abate. "I know about bombs that my people and pirates created specifically to stop up the engines on Fire Nation ships and sink them, and I've seen the ambush patterns my people made with my own two eyes," Kya said, eyes narrow with an implied experience. "General Iroh has been traveling by sea, hasn't he?"

"But how would you know enough to be able to put this into motion?" Ozai asked, curious despite himself. "I know enough about the Water Tribe to know you're no warrior."

Kya smiled bitterly, "No, but there are no secrets in the Southern Water Tribe. I've cleaned up the debris from raids enough times over the years. I've helped treat the wounds of warriors I've lived with my entire life, and heard enough of their stories to know. I can give you the information you need to put this into motion." She crossed her arms across her chest, expresion glacial. "Have your loyalists do the deed, sell his location to Earth Kingdom forces or pirates, it doesn't matter. When this is over, you'll be the only heir to the throne."

"And when my brother is gone, and I am Crown Prince–"

"You will protect my son," Kya said, deep blue gaze boring into him. "This is the price for what you want most, husband. Is the throne worth enough to you to accept it?"

Ozai concluded that her price was more than worth it.


	5. Drowned Dragon

(a/n: sorry, bit more adult perspective I needed to write)

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Sometimes, when you're stuck in a corner, with no idea where to go, it helps to retrace your steps and see the exact moment where you went wrong. When the reality of that is laid bare, new paths and possibilities can open for you.

As it turned out, this lesson applies even when one has committed crimes of the highest caliber.

And, no matter how highly the Fire Lord spoke of him, Iroh couldn't see the future. The worst thing about hindsight is seeing how all of your mistakes could have been avoided, which were all too apparent to Iroh now, lying in a foreign land with a broken leg and spears ready to strike at his throat. And even he couldn't guess how his country was so easily shaken to the roots in the span of a few short years.

Even though no one saw the full signs at first, the moment things first changed was when Prince Ozai took the foreign woman under his guard, and would later make her his wife.

Their first blow was learning that Ozai's original fiancee was lost to the seas, her envoy sunk into the choppiest tides. Fire Lord Azulon had sent consolations to the family, but as little more than a formality for their loss. The bloodline he hoped to claim lost for good. But with Lady Ursa gone without a trace, someone else entered Ozai's sight at just the right (or perhaps the wrong) time. Ozai was cagey and as quiet as he could be about the woman's presence in his company, but the youngest son of the Fire Lord was not a master of subterfuge, and Crown Prince Iroh had sources of his own within the palace. Most notably, from his own father. And though Iroh did not feel the same layer of disgust as the Fire Lord did about the sudden arrangement, he was truly was appalled at his brother's impetuous decisions. Ozai was so difficult and prickly that even Iroh hadn't expected for him to be so charmed by a pretty, exotic face. Let alone a foreigner who, if the rumors were true, was actually a commoner.

Regardless, he heard about all of this while camped many weeks away from home on Earth Kingdom soil, just after leaving a war council that dragged late into the evening. He was exhausted, mind and body, when receiving that letter from home, and didn't feel any better afterwards either. So Iroh could not know what was it about this foreign woman that drew in his younger brother, only that he was sure it was going to cause trouble somewhere down the line.

By the time Iroh finally took a military leave to return home, Ozai was married to that same woman, and currently with a child of his own. He was happy at least to have had that information leaked to him beforehand; it would have been a shock otherwise.

Despite the identity of the Prince's new wife–a lady named Kya, who by all accounts, was strikingly beautiful and hard-working–having already been exposed, Ozai was still wary of Iroh interacting with her. She was elusive, never seeming to be anywhere where Iroh was, and the maids attending to the lady were surprisingly defensive to being questioned about her. That still didn't stop Iroh from getting a hold of the sketches used to commemorate their wedding and discovering that yes, she did live up to expectations. But other information, like how she arrived in the capital and her actual point of origin was buried deep.

Eventually, Iroh decided to leave it alone. He was patient, and knew that sooner or later Kya would show herself. They couldn't occupy the same space for long and not cross paths.

However, it was around that time that Ozai got the idea that he needed a vacation and spirited his family away to Ember Island. Iroh wasn't fooled; he knew the man's sudden departure had to do with himself. (It wasn't like Ozai was doing any real work that would have justified such a trip in the first place, let alone one so rushed.) But his avoidance was no more than just a delaying tactic. Iroh wouldn't be forgetting about his situation any time soon.

But Crown Prince Iroh had more important things to worry about at the moment than his brother's myriad of issues. More specifically, he had a son to visit.

Lu Ten was Iroh's one and only child, and also the only thing he had left of Zhulan since her passing almost a decade ago. She had adored his tenacity most of all and had always wanted the boy to succeed, even if it meant leaving her in the dust. Iroh only wished that that desire hadn't turned out to be so literal for her. But where Zhulan had been sharp in mind (the quality that–more than even her beauty–pushed Iroh into making her his wife), she was frail in constitution. He had been so lost in bliss that her irreversible illness that surfaced a year after pregnancy caught them completely by surprise. She faded away slowly after that.

At least he still had Lu Ten, his wife's legacy. The teenager was already shooting up in height, surpassing his father so quickly. With that, and his consistently high marks in both education and firebending training, Iroh already had high hopes for Lu Ten's further success. So when the seventeen-year old requested to join him abroad, Iroh agreed (an action that he would regret later). When the Crown Prince submitted his findings and recommendations to his father, Azulon agreed to allow Lu Ten to be deployed under his son's authority, bidding the youth to be cautious and listen to his father's directions and experience.

He started the young man out small, with easily handled outposts and lower-tier command jobs to test his effectiveness at leading. When a temporary position was secured for him, Iroh took a trip back home the moment he got another concerning letter: Ozai had another child.

The younger man was moving so fast. Barely a year after his son's birth was shockingly fast.

Iroh made his judgement known in his own way, tailing the couple's activity, sending gifts congratulating them on the happy experience. To anyone else's eyes, it would have looked entirely innocent (as was the intent), but Ozai–knowing him for so long–would be all too aware that he disapproved of his actions. It was a foray in the library that let him see Kya for the first time. She seemed discomforted to see him, strikingly blue eyes darkened with her wary frown. A native-born Fire Nation citizen might never recognize just where her foreign traits hailed from, to the more wordly General's discerning eyes, she bled Water Tribe from head to toe.

But for all that he saw, Iroh didn't know to see Kya as what she really was: a threat.

Iroh didn't know then that the next time he left the capital, he wouldn't be returning.

Iroh's following tour of duty was a long one, and he knew that it might be several years at least before he returned for a true holiday home. He took a few days to prepare, using the time to pick up an extra regiment from his father's reserve in the meantime. Speaking of family, Iroh saw his niece and nephew only a few times during his stay in the capital, but only briefly. Usually being ferried from one location or another by a dutiful guard, with wide golden eyes following his unfamiliar form curiously. Apparently, their mother's wariness kept them well sequestered. But still, the image of Fire Nation gold contrasting with Water Tribe features was a unusual sight that was impossible to miss. They'd be a curiosity when finally stepping into the public light.

On the day that Iroh departed once again, there was a mixed set of farewells, as was usually the case with the royal family. Father's reinforcements were a welcome addition, though with their success so far, maybe not totally necessary. Lady Kya watched his departure from a window above instead of just avoiding the event entirely; Iroh gave her a small wave of acknowledgement which caused her to quickly duck out of sight. Ozai just snidely told him to "try not to die," which is about what Iroh expected if not a dose of the cold shoulder. His younger brother never really got over Iroh's position in the war.

But it's been a long time since he concerned himself with Ozai's jealous spats.

Once he had left the capital, all such small concerns ceased to matter. During the long ship ride, the man had plans in motion that would change the course of the war, something that he had been planning for a long time. The Fire Nation has boasted a massive, efficient army and has had decades of experience in warfare, but there were some challenges that even they struggled to surmount. Such was the case of the now infamous siege of the capital of Ba Sing Se. For many years, the Fire Nation had thrown assault after assault at the indomitable walls of the Earth Kingdom's capital and not once had they managed to breach its fortifications.

But Iroh _knew_ that he was different. Because in youth he had been given a vision that saw himself victorious over that walled fortress. It was a sign, and the will of Agni that his destiny lay with finally overcoming the Earth Kingdom's greatest bastion. And by the will of the Fire Lord and his own, Iroh would see that dream fulfilled and the war brought to an end.

Which was why, upon arriving back in the front, he started a massive campaign of assaults across the Earth Kingdom, capturing territories left and right. He would use those to establish new bases for himself from which the army would use to lay a total siege to the capital.

And, with patience and careful planning, Ba Sing Se would fall.

It was a truly momentous venture, a military campaign that hadn't been undertaken in a very long time. In fact, the army hadn't made a serious effort to take the walled city in so long precisely because they knew how difficult and dangerous such a gambit would be. But Azulon gave support to his venture, and sent additional commanders to help move the war front along. The Earth Kingdom quickly noticed the new direction of the invasion effort, too late. General Iroh broke through their blockades one after the other, getting closer to Ba Sing Se with every passing battle and each month the goal was closer in sight. Sometime during the enclosure of their supply lines, Lu Ten's detachment was absorbed into Iroh's forces, so that father and son could fight side by side, the General coaching the young man to become stronger than ever.

Eventually however, the net was completed, his forces camped just far away enough from the wall to be out of range of any earthbender's boulder barrage. It was there that he set up his command center where he would stay for the foreseeable future, complete with a perfectly sized writing desk for composing letters to the other commanders he needed to manage. Or for writing back home to sent updates on his progress of course.

Iroh's correspondence to his father was mainly filled with military updates, advice, strategy, or some combination of the three. He received a notice or two for a requisitioned weapon cache every so often. And of course, nothing from Ozai. His brother hadn't done that in ages.

Feeling charitable, Iroh decided to send a few letters to his brother's family as well. He knew that the turbulent mood among the family meant he might not receive a reply, but he still went through with it anyway. In war, many commanders sent home tokens of their victory along with the letters. Lady Kya was likely set against him, so there wasn't much point in trying to win her favor that way. But for the children, Iroh procured two items taken from captured territories for them, to look back on fondly when this was all over.

The siege began in earnest.

For days, weeks, months, the encampments stood. General Iroh and the invasion force weathered the full defense of the best of the Earth Kingdom's benders. For a long, arduous fight they built ladders that were later torn down, blasted the rock wall with fire and handmade explosives only to watch the earthbenders repair the damage inflicted when the invaders exhausted themselves enough to be driven back. It was a tug-of-war of power shifting and changing as constantly as the embers of a flame.

But little by little, the Fire Nation was making headway, aided by their superior supply line and the explosive potential harnessed in Iroh's deadly lightning. After each assault, the repairs were less organized and more specialized earthbenders were killed by precision shots.

The days blurred together under all that time, until the siege had stretched long into the lives of everyone involved, two hundred days of it with soldiers working in shifts so that they could fight all day and all night.

And on the day of the summer solstice, everything changed.

Iroh launched his largest assault of the entire war, one that had been ages in planning, and that he would remember forever. That day he overwhelmed the soldiers at the wall and, with the strongest lightning strokes he had ever conjured, cracked the shell of Ba Sing Se.

The great wall had been broken.

But General Iroh's victory was brief and bittersweet.

The Dai Li, emboldened by the Earth Kingdom's desperation, brought their strongest benders to bear. With the strongest of the Fire Nation reveling in their victory, the most elite earthbenders struck a deadly blow not even conceived of before. Dai Li benders worked together to destabilize and collapse a section of the wall of their own volition, burying part of the Fire Nation army under hundreds of tons of rock and earth. The deep, shattering crash shook the battlefield to its core, and brought the attention of the entire army, the rumble akin to a natural quake. Up to this point, none of the Earth Kingdom defenders had once used the wall itself as a weapon, and due to that, the attack caught the invasion front completely by surprise. And even if they could have seen it coming, firebenders' flames helped little against the tide of earth that fell upon them, crushed to death by an end none of them could have fought against.

And among those lost to that gambit, was Iroh's own son.

The moment the General saw the wall collapse in the distance, saw it bury Lu Ten's own regiment, Iroh was frozen with shock. He was out of his head, a dull ringing aching in his ears over and over again as the earth settled. An aide was shaking him, trying to bring him back to the present, but all the man could think about was the disaster that had just unfolded for him then. "Lu Ten…" He murmured, the man's normally brilliant mind running at a fraction of its usual speed as he struggled to process his loss and what to do in response.

In that moment, Iroh's destiny was balanced on a razor's edge as his psyche battled over which emotion ruled him the strongest. If the Crown Prince had fallen to anger and vengeance when he lost his son, Ba Sing Se would have fallen that day. Every Dai Li would have burned and the Earth Kingdom would have known the the true terror the Fire Nation's Dragon could provide.

But despair was the stronger force, and that was what saved the Earth Kingdom's people.

Iroh called a full retreat, drawing the bulk of his forces back away from city border. It was against the wishes of many commanders who saw the open barrier as a chance to take the fight to the city's interior. Iroh ignored them. He couldn't fight any more. He wasn't even able to recover Lu Ten's body, if he even could recognize him. The Ba Sing Se invasion force was disbanded, and the support regiments sent by the Fire Lord were ordered to return home. It was too late, by the time someone else could attempt a second siege and have another force organized for it, the wall would already be repaired. Many of them were furious, and claimed that the Crown Prince was acting irrational, but they never amounted to much. Iroh wasn't paying attention to their opinions anymore. He was so far away that he couldn't do that even if he wanted to.

Only a small, loyal contingent was still at the man's side after he dismissed everyone else, and with them, he traveled to a Fire Nation shrine. There he sought direction and closure from the spirits, hopefully to learn to come to terms with his loss. There he remained in meditation, longer than he ever had before, intending to stay until he found an answer.

But to his shock, Iroh earned himself a real, verbal answer from the spirit world, and it was one rife with anger. He had passed over the veil, not even intentionally.

 _'You dare come to us now, after your illustrious history?'_ Voices berated him, sinking into Iroh's soul like claws, tearing at him. Among them he spied–just for a moment–figures that may have been benders from ages past, forms blurring like mist. _'You lost your son, Prince. But how many sons have you taken? How many parents suffer the pain you feel? How many lost due to your involvement?'_ The spirits did not lie; it was an objective truth that Iroh felt in every fiber of his being, pounded into his mind like a hammer's blow. He wasn't a soldier following orders, never was, but a leader of men whose authority was unmatched by all but his own father. He was the one who picked out the most vulnerable of settlements to strike and put those plans into motion.

Through the point of view of an unseen observer, Iroh saw himself in his mind's eye. His accomplishments, battles, the milestones of his life. And it was clear what the focus of the spirits was, and through the shock and loss that lingered on him, the man was easily shaken. He didn't know how long he was forced to watch. Time seemed to be standing still.

 _'Ba Sing Se and its people never belonged to you. The dragons were wrong about you. You have been arrogant, and you have disappointed us.'_ The air was cold with their words.

"…What…what must I do…" The man breathed, the force of their emotion crushing his already fragile mental state.

 _'We are not expecting anything more. However…'_ For a moment the air had ceased shifting, as if the spirits were contemplating, before resuming once more. _'As long as your existence remains unbalanced by the taint of your mistakes, the spirits will have no aid for you and you will be doomed to reflect on them forever. And when the time comes for your life to end, the gates of the spirit world will remain forever closed to you, and with them, your son.'_ Iroh drew in a pained breath at those words, already missing Lu Ten too much for words. _'General Iroh will not be welcome among us. Unbecome that man. Meditate on that, if you can.'_

With that, the man was truly awake and conscious again, breathing hard after his first real dip in the Spirit Realm. But he was considering their words deeply and the effect they had on him.

Iroh didn't return home.

With every night that he meditated on his past and the newfound perspective the spirits had imparted on him, he felt more shame and sadness for it all. And regret for setting Lu Ten down a path would lead to his death. If only Iroh hadn't brought him to the siege. If only he could have helped him. And the Crown Prince could not show himself in the capital, knowing full well that the Fire Lord's approval for him and his actions would not mend the pain he felt.

So he requisitioned for himself and a skeleton crew a small ship of his own, intending to travel the world to gain a deeper understanding of himself and his place in the world. Iroh was numb to the desires of his remaining family, but it threw everything else into sharp focus. He spent some time like that, trying to re-identify himself. Seeing the people he fought without his nation's lense.

But Iroh was not destined to have a peaceful departure from the military.

That was the realization he came to when his ship was raided in the dead of night, his dogged and loyal crew overwhelmed before they even knew they were under attack. Iroh woke at the first crash, fighting off the invaders to the best of his ability, but his firebending had dulled since that fateful day at Ba Sing Se and his spiritual encounter. He couldn't stop them from getting to the engine room and sabotaging the ship, hands full trying to save what remained of his men.

It was only luck that Iroh made it to an escape raft before his ship was destroyed by the bombs they planted, splitting apart in a rain of metal and flame.

Iroh was injured in the destruction, suffering minor burns and a broken leg from the explosion's shockwave, and the one soldier he managed to take with him expired from his wounds. Iroh was alone. The only break he got was the enemy–thinking him dead with the rest of his crew–did not come back to finish the job. Exhaustion took him then. He didn't remember much of the days that followed, up until his life-raft washed up on Southern Water Tribe shores.

And that was where he was at that moment, laid up in a rough cot with a wrapped leg and armed-to-the-teeth warriors watching him suspiciously.

He didn't try to make trouble. Merely rested there quietly as his mind pondered on the explosion that lost him his ship, and who could have been responsible for it. The damage his body had sustained, and the cold felt through the tent walls sapped his strength. There was more than a good chance that he wouldn't have been able bend his way out even if he wanted to. Iroh felt a deep, aching pain from his injuries, but either the Water Tribe had no pain reliever on hand, or had no inclination to spare what they had for a Fire Nation prisoner. But even if Iroh had been fit and healthy, the man no longer had any desire to fight. He was just so tired, not just physically.

But he wasn't left alone forever. Eventually, the tent flap was pulled back for a different man to enter. He was somewhat more decorated than the guards Iroh had seen so far; Iroh assumed him to be higher rank than the others, possibly the Chief himself. Iroh waited for him to speak.

"Out of all the things that could have shown up on my doorstep, I didn't expect to come across the Prince of the Fire Nation," The man started, his voice surprisingly calm.

Iroh didn't see any point in playing ignorant, the man didn't seem to be baiting. "You recognize me, I see. Sir…."

"It's Hakoda; I'm the Chief of this settlement." Well that effectively confirmed Iroh's suspicions, though the man still seemed very disciplined for his age. "I know someone who recognized your face and pointed it out for me. You're hardly a mystery outside of the Water Tribe, General Iroh," The man said, leaning against one of the tent's support beams. Despite his casual actions, his expression was cautious and one hand rested close to the machete sheathed on his hip. "And now that you've end up here, I can't in good conscience let you leave, even if I wanted to."

"Am I to be executed then?" Iroh asked thoughtfully, deciding to get to the point.

"That's not how we do things," Hakoda denied, "The Southern Tribe doesn't make a habit of executing people off the field of battle. That's more a question that should be taken up with the Earth Kingdom. And considering the circumstances, exile isn't an option I'd consider for you."

Iroh rubbed at his bandages gently, thinking over his situation. The Water Tribe Chief had a set of morals that prevented him from just killing Iroh outright, even if he never specified not wanting to. But then, the Chief seemed like a intelligent man even so far; who knew what he really preferred to happen. Iroh couldn't know. The Crown Prince had heard a tale or two of Water Tribesmen who were shamed into leaving the safety of their village walls and wandering the ice plains out of penance, but Hakoda was too careful to let him go free even like that. And, judging by the undercurrent of his frustration, foisting Iroh off on the Earth Kingdom to be tried by them was either too inconvenient or too risky of a task to embark on. Which left one clear answer….

"Then, I'm going to be a prisoner here," Iroh said, which was confirmed by the Chief's nod.

"Until I can find a more permanent solution, yes. We have no reason to trust you."

"No…you really don't," Iroh agreed regretfully. The man left soon after that, leaving the fallen Prince to ruminate on what he had gotten trapped in. After how thoroughly his life and expectations had been destroyed, Iroh had no interest in trying to rebel against the Chief's decree. The one and only desire that he held close was finding a way to live up to the spirits' advice and–in the end–seeing Lu Ten again. Beyond the veil. And fighting against these people–who had the courtesy to bandage his wounds when they could have easily (and justifiably) left him to die–would not be any way to accomplish that.

But the day that Iroh finally managed to realize a portion of the energy he had lost was the day he first met the Chief's children.

He was asleep when they first arrived, disturbed by the sounds of whispering and the rustling of cloth nearby. Iroh cracked open eye to see two young kids had snuck into the tent space, crouched over and talking to each other in hushed voices as they searched through the belongings that had been salvaged from Iroh's liferaft. They were a young girl and a boy who looked to be a year or two older, and had to be less than ten years old. They were merely curious, searching through the Fire Nation remains more out of naivete than determination.

But what truly surprised him was, when the children's features became apparent and Iroh saw that in their faces, there was Fire Nation traits as well. It wasn't just the fair skin or the black hair, but the curve of the children's eyes. Especially in the girl. And from the similarities they shared, and the fact that half-blood children would be rare enough, Iroh assumed they were siblings.

Fascinated, the old General adjusted his position, sitting up from the cot. The pair immediately shot to attention the moment they noticed, the boy dropping a piece of cloth in his hands. "Hello there," The man managed, facing down the two blue-eyed stares, "find anything interesting?"

"You're the enemy, you don't get to ask questions," The girl told him sharply. Her willpower would be more impressive if her voice didn't have that child's tenor and if she weren't so small.

"I meant no offence," Iroh said cordially. He continued, subtly prodding to confirm his suspicions, "It must be surprising for you to meet someone from the Fire Nation for the first time."

"That's not true," The boy spoke up, as if by reflex, "Our mom is actually–"

His sister clapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish the sentence, "Shut up, dummy! That's none of his business!" The damage was already done however. Iroh's brow raised curiously, wondering how and why a Fire Nation woman would have ended up in the Southern Water Tribe, and how she ended up having children there. Nothing about the people around him suggested that they would imprison or harm someone who wasn't military. So why…. It was interesting to be sure, especially after what had happened back home with his brother's bride.

But while he was thinking, the little boy pushed his sibling's hand off of him and backed away. "I told you not to call me that! I'm gonna tell mom if you do it again!"

"You wouldn't dare," The girl shot back, chasing him out of the tent.

Iroh watched them leave, intrigued. He wasn't even too bothered by the waft of cold air that rushed into the tent with their sudden departure. He had wondered for a while if there was a reason he ended up being saved by the Water Tribe beyond mere coincidence. Because there was something about half-blood children in two opposite faraway lands that made him think that someone or something had actually guided him here. There was no way to be sure.

Still, even if it wasn't true, it was a comforting thought.

Sometime later in the day, he heard the sound of voices outside the tent. Sounded like a pair. The Chief from the other day and a woman's voice. "I don't see why it has to be you. You don't have to face this if it makes you uncomfortable…" That was Hakoda, worried it seemed like.

"No, I have to. We both know that man's going to find out on his own sooner or later, and I think I might have more luck talking to him," And that was the woman talking. Her accent was distinct and familiar. Familiar enough that brought Iroh's mind back to the kids he met earlier, and he sat up straighter, mind becoming more alert in preparation. "We're not getting anywhere otherwise. Unless you've reconsidered your Tribe's stance on what to do with him…"

A rough sigh of upset was heard. Then, "Honestly I would _prefer_ that he didn't have to end up here at all. It's too dangerous for the kids, and the whole Tribe at that. From the General or whoever could find him here and cause unrest."

"I don't think we have to worry about a search party, Hakoda." Now, what could _that_ mean? It sounded like they knew about the attack more than just washing up on shore, but it definitely wasn't the Water Tribe who attacked his ship. Disguised though they were, there were still details that Iroh remembered about them. He had a few suspects so far as to who it could have been, but the southerners were certainly not on the list. So how could they have found out who was or wasn't looking for him? The lady's voice continued, "Let me try, Hakoda. It'll be better than waiting around for who knows how long for something better to come along."

There was only silence in response, but the Chief's approval must have been nonverbal because a moment later both Hakoda and the woman both shouldered their way into the tent. Chief Hakoda stood aside and waited near the the door, so that his companion could take center stage, but Iroh did not miss the protective warning that was present in his gaze. The moment Iroh saw her, a bolt of recognition blew through his mind. Despite the thick russet coat topped with its fur collar that reached high enough to hide her neck, her origin was apparent. She was black-haired and fair-skinned, with warm amber eyes, so clearly Fire Nation that Iroh couldn't mistake. But, not only that, but the woman's face itself was recognizable to him. The man had seen it posted among the bulletins that were delivered to him while in the field, mentioning her disappearance that kickstarted the confusion in the capital. Lady Ursa.

He had only raised his brow in curiosity before the woman already began to speak, "I can tell that you've already recognized who I am, is that right, General?" Though they had never met, he could tell her voice was strong, noble. Clearly Ursa's time in the South had not softened her fire.

"I have in fact seen postings of your disappearance before, miss." Iroh inclined his head slightly, "However, all of the ones I've seen seem to agree that you died when pirates plundered and sunk your escort. Although, I suppose that means 'pirates' weren't responsible for what happened at all." The man glanced at Hakoda meaningfully, who stood his ground.

"That is correct. Hakoda spirited me away from an engagement I never chose. But even if you found me after all this time, I'm not going to return. I've made my own life here."

Iroh let her declaration settle into silence. Ursa was still unmistakably a noble in word and figure, but the homeland's values were at odds with the ones she held now. Even if he wanted to, Iroh didn't think he could convince her to return to the Fire Nation on her own will, besides… "By your own life, you mean the children, is that right?"

Ursa shot the Chief an alert look, and he actually looked embarrassed, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. "Sorry, they snuck into the tent early this morning. I gave them an earful, but…."

"Oh, it's…it's fine, I really should know better by now." Ursa straightened up, turning her attention back to Iroh, "Yes, to answer your question, those two are my children. Or rather, they're ours." The way the Chief adjusted his position, moving closer to her, left no moment of doubt as to her meaning. _Theirs._ Iroh was struck by the force of the situation. The descendant of the Avatar and the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe. And on the other hand, what happened back home. He was certain that his being there could not possibly be mere coincidence.

"And now that I know…."

"Yes, we can't let you leave. I only told you because I know the Fire Nation's most feared General would figure it out on his own, but no one else can know I'm here," Ursa said, voice severe. She didn't have to expand. Ursa's presence would threaten the people here if that knowledge was spread around, and the Fire Nation wouldn't be ignoring their existence anymore. Even hearsay could spread from the Earth Kingdom if the Chief reached out to them for help with dealing with Iroh. But in all honesty, Iroh wasn't too disappointed with this outcome.

He smiled wearily, trying to relax his aching leg. "I understand," He said, "You're just doing what you need to." Iroh knew that he wasn't going to go anywhere, at least for a time. He knew that the Chief would want to interrogate him and that he would have plenty of information to spare if he chose to give it. The Water Tribe had too many problems to be bothered with his scars.

All things considered, being their prisoner was better than the alternatives.

But the man wasn't finished yet. "Also, we have another reason for speaking with you. A scout of ours found this on a foray in the Earth Kingdom. I thought you'd find it interesting…" Chief Hakoda dug a crumpled scroll out of a parcel on his belt, unrolling the wrinkled parchment with a flourish, putting the announcement on full display. "Officially, Prince Iroh, you're dead."

His own death notice. Printed on a Fire Nation bulletin and stamped with the Fire Lord's own authorization, marking it as genuine. _This_ was the reason why the Water Tribe already knew nobody would come looking for him. Iroh felt a dull ache deep in his chest. Even though he had distanced himself from the Fire Nation for his journey of self-reflection, being marked off like this was hurtful in its own way. It was still his country, after all.

And yet…the curious part was the timeline. Even after the time he spent drifting in his life-raft and convalescence in the Water Tribe, it seemed too quick for the Fire Lord to have already heard of and accepted his 'demise.' Unless of course the attack had come from someone in the Fire Nation in the first place.

And maybe someone he knew well had finally overstepped their bounds.

Hakoda left the notice with him that night to pour over. But despite that Iroh's mind was working full gear once again, he was calm. As it was, retirement may not yet be out of his reach.

* * *

.

* * *

The Chief's two young children on the other hand, were not so content with the situation.

They knew very little about the older man who had washed up on their home, besides the fact that he was apparently a Fire Nation commander of some renown.

So during the previous night, Azula came up with the idea of searching through his personal stuff to find something that could help their dad's fight against the Fire Nation. Her brother had not been totally on board with the idea; Zuko thought that their dad had things under control, or at least enough that they didn't need to sneak around within sight of the prisoner in question.

"You're such a buzzkill," Azula pouted.

As it turned out, once she decided to go through with it, Zuko's shared curiosity won out and he ended up tagging along anyway.

He considered himself justified in that opinion when the two of them were found out and later lectured by their father about sneaking into places that they shouldn't be. "I told you we'd get in trouble! I told you it was a bad idea." But he wasn't able to dissuade her anyway.

Azula, on the other hand, was utterly unrepentant. If anything, coming face to face with the Fire Nation military only made her more committed to becoming stronger and mastering her bending. Meeting the man felt tense, and that he was so calm in the face of being a prisoner made it even worse. She had to be taken seriously. Ever since she first discovered her gift, she was determined to become a master, and her dad was perfectly encouraging of that. He was playful and helpless against her declaration of becoming the strongest waterbender in the world.

What he was not so encouraging of though, was Azula's mentions of wanting to fight the Fire Nation with him. Hakoda had wished for his children to never have to fight in the war, but even at such a young age, she was expecting it. Living in the Southern Water Tribe killed certain pieces of innocence that other children would normally have.

Not only did she want to be the Best at her craft, but she also wanted to put real use to it.

It was why, the moment she was old enough to leave the village–under the condition that she was accompanied by her brother and within sight of the village gates (though it wasn't beyond her to push the limits as much as she thought she could get away with)–Azula took any opportunity she could. And she had a good reason for fixating on it too.

The little trips were centered around the kids' rough attempts at waterbending training more than anything, away from the circle of homes where they had more space. There was no doubt in her mind that they would need it in the future. And even though she prided herself on her abilities, Azula was aware that she didn't know the techniques, how to make them flow and move the way she wanted. There were so many things that they were missing to really improve.

And then there was Zuko.

He wasn't on her level. Everyone knew it even if they didn't want to say it out loud.

But that couldn't do.

Both of them needed to be at the top of their game when (not if) it was time for them to face the Fire Nation. It could only help their cause in the end. Azula was counting on it being a shock to their foes when two waterbenders were brought to the fore instead of just one. No matter how good she was, things like that had impact.

She started pushing him soon into those (rough, uncoordinated) sessions, hoping that Zuko could learn to follow her lead. They usually came complete with her showing off her own skills (such as they were) as an example. Most recently, Azula had caught the trick of unfreezing and re-freezing and was trying to pass that to Zuko, with mixed results.

She showed off here and there, her newly formed puddle of meltwater taunted him. Zuko grumbled about it instead of copying her, "You're gonna mess up eventually, 'Zula."

Azula just smiled at him in self-satisfaction, "I don't make mistakes, brother."

He definitely didn't like that answer, mumbling in annoyance, "Whatever." Suffice to say, she wouldn't be getting much of him that day either.

The problem was that where Azula saw a form of encouragement, Zuko saw an attack.

Her attempts to emulate father's lessons fell woefully flat, and in their stead, her mother's form of lecture didn't do much to appeal herself either. The two of them were operating on entirely different wavelengths. Then Zuko's temper would boil over and he would refuse to accompany her to training, which as a result meant that Azula wouldn't be allowed to go outside either. It didn't take long for her concern to shift to how best to trick him into participating.

It was a frustrating cycle. One that she tolerated despite it all.

There wasn't much else to do that was actually stimulating. (Or too…childish for what the girl's mind was focused on.) Azula tried to go spy on the Fire Nation man again by herself but it didn't take long for her father caught her and lectured her. He was understanding of her curiosity and the parent that she genuinely didn't want to upset, plus the guards were more alert after the first time, so she let it go for a while. That meant that training (or trying to) was really the only useful thing she could do at the time.

But that balance couldn't really be maintained forever.

Somehow it wasn't until Azula was nine that the conflict between them really came to a head. The worst fight of the siblings' childhood took place in the fall, during a period of time that the elders called a "dry cold." It was dangerous yet an unassuming weather pattern just from sight; when the temperature dropped and the snow stopped falling, freezing the ground under one's feet into a sheer, slick surface. The low light made it difficult to see how thick the ice below your feet really was, or if water lurked just beneath. The sky above was clear and the air crisp, wind settled. It truly was only a beautiful day from the perspective of the inexperienced. Between that and their parents locked in counsel, they really shouldn't have been out on the ice at all.

How fitting for the disaster that their training turned out to be.

Just like the worst of the days, Zuko reached a point in the day when he refused to tolerate any more of her egging on, and was about to walk out. And it was at that moment that Azula came up with another way to push her point, one that crossed a new line. "If you can just give up when things get tough, how are you gonna protect the village when dad leaves?"

Zuko had his back to her when the words first dropped and stopped in his tracks, turning around in a rush. "What…? What do you mean when he _leaves?"_

"You don't know?" Azula asked, knowing full-well that he didn't. The truth was that she wasn't supposed to know either. The elders and their parents avoided talking about the war as much as possible around the two of them. But she knew. "Everyone in the village knows! Dad declared war on the Fire Nation, of course he can't stay here. You really are a dummy!"

 _"Don't call me that!"_ Zuko burst out, stepping closer. "You're lying, just like always!"

"I'm not," She said, not conveying how much the idea of their father leaving bothered her as well, but she thought it should be said. "Dad promised to help the Earth Kingdom, and he can't do that from home, Zuko. So how is he gonna trust you to protect the village when he goes? You're so weak you wouldn't be able to do anything even if we were attacked!"

Out of reflex, Zuko flung a spray of water in her direction. Azula stepped aside, a little surprised. Even though she could tell it wasn't wholly intentional, it was the first time he had actually tried to bend at her. It was a testament to how far she was pushing him this time. Or, that Zuko had learned something after all. "I'm not weak, and I'm training with dad too. You are wrong!"

With just a few more words, the air was already so much more tense than it was before. By now, the temper was starting to get to Azula too. She started this to make him think, but now she was just angry at being rebuffed. He was beginning to affect her.

The ice creaked under their feet.

"You don't even see yourself, Zuzu," She snapped. "It's embarrassing to watch how bad you are at this," She moved to avoided another spray of ice-water, this one more aggressive, splashing across her boots. But the ice was slick and slippery, and the next arc caught her across the knees. Releasing a noise of annoyance from the cold seeping into her clothes, Azula retaliated. Within moments, water was being thrown back and forth. And beneath their feet the ice groaned in protest; it was a sound that went unacknowledged by both.

And it was that that came back to bite them. Because the next time that Azula attacked, strain was too much for the ice to take. The crack that split the sheet surface was loud enough that both of them froze in their tracks, too late. One moment, they were standing there, face to face. In the next, Zuko was gone, fallen through the ice that splintered beneath his feet.

He didn't even get the chance to shout before falling into the water with a splash.

Azula's eyes widened, and–fight forgotten–dashed to the open hole as carefully as she could. She tried to reach into the water for his dark form beneath the surface, only to pull her hand back with a involuntary noise. The water was so cold that it hurt.

If Azula jumped in after him to try to drag him out, the shock could knock her out. Which was probably what happened to her brother. Grandmother Kanna had warned children about the dangers of the arctic waters, that swimming in such temperature would leave you weak and sluggish, and could even make you pass out. Azula and Zuko being half-blooded made people suspect that their resistance to the cold was not as strong, and made swimming even more of a danger for them. Whether this was actually true or not, neither of them had decided to find out.

She couldn't go for their dad. Zuko would be long gone to the current before she came back.

Instead, the girl spread her hands and tried to move him back to the surface with her bending. For all the confidence that she had in her abilities, freezing water and pushing it to and fro was so much easier of a task than pulling him back up. She was so young and Zuko was bigger than her. In one dark moment of unease, she doubted she could do it.

But just when it seemed hopeless, the shape beneath her moved, and the fur collar of her brother's parka brushed the water's surface. Azula lunged for his shoulder, fingers tight, and dug her heels into the wobbly ice surface to drag him out and unto level ground. The water was soaked all the way through, made him heavy to move, and combined with the effort of her bending, exhausted the girl. She couldn't move him anymore than that. Azula let him go, wet, unconscious, and face-down on the ice as she tried to get her breath back.

She needed help. She needed her dad.

Azula ran for the village, her wet boots slipping across the ice. She bolted through the gates, blind to anyone else. It took longer to find him than she wanted–too long it seemed–bursting into a meeting between the elders and her father, grabbing his hand as those gathered straightened up in surprise. "Come on, come with me."

"Azula, wait, what's going on? Why are you here like–"

"Dad, we don't have time to talk, Zuko fell in the water," The girl told him, and instantly the confusion on Hakoda's face transformed into a worried expression that she had never seen before. The meeting he was burdened with only a moment before may as well have meant nothing. The harder, more determined look on his face bore a wordless demand that even in her mental and physical exhaustion could easily understand: where? Azula described the place she left him, continuing on in a rush, "I couldn't bring him back. He was too heavy, I couldn't–"

She cut herself off when Hakoda placed a hand on her shoulder, face tense. "Azula, I need you go back home and wait for me. Calm down and wait for us, alright?" At his urging, she nodded and pulled away. Her father dismissed the the meeting and rushed out of the hall.

There was nothing else she could do. Azula went back home, alone.

She trudged into the sectioned off room she had to share with her brother and waited there. The girl rubbed her hands in the furs, trying to drive away the chill of ice-water that clung to her skin, but even when her body had warmed, the feeling didn't seem to go away.

Why was she still so cold?

Later, Azula straightened up as she heard footsteps rushing inside. She nudged open the fur flap, seeing her father hurrying to the far end where his sleeping space was, her mother and Grandmother Kanna at his side. Hakoda was carrying Zuko in his arms, and his thick coat had been taken off and used to bundle the young boy up for warmth. Their loud voices were intermingling with each other, panicked. Zuko's voice was missing from the air; he was still unconscious. Kanna temporarily left for medicines while her parents were trying to make her brother as comfortable as possible, lowering their voices and talking in hushed whispers.

They were too rushed and worried to spare a thought to the girl who watched them. As time went on, Azula's eyes eventually drifted to where Zuko's skin had discolored, the cold of their own homeland tarnishing his body. Exposure. She was too slow, or too weak to drag him out when it counted. But if she was too weak, would she have broken the ice at all?

She didn't want to look at it, not right then. Azula backed away, pacing back to her cot.

She faded in and out of consciousness, and eventually, she woke–tired and bleary-eyed–to see a flickering light emitting from where Zuko was sequestered and moved to check it out. Surprisingly, in the other room, she found the old Fire Nation man standing (with the aid of a rough crutch) over her brother with flames in his hands. If she were more alert, Azula might have announced her presence and demanded to know what he thought he was doing there, but caught a glance of her father standing nearby. Hakoda had his eyes focused on the firebender tensely, his hand clutching a honed machete close. He watched the Fire Nation prisoner closely, but nothing more. Was he actually helping them?

Eventually, the old firebender dismissed the flames and lowered his hands, speaking to Hakoda in a whisper. Her father nodded, and the look on his face was–surprisingly–thankful. The prisoner took up his crutch again, and Hakoda led him away.

She felt unsettled, unable to really sleep for very long. So it was that she didn't go long before finding her dreams disrupted again. Once, half-asleep, the girl felt rather than saw her father leaning over her, brushing back her hair. Azula wasn't awake enough to fully remember the exact words of what he said, but that he told her that Zuko was stable, that he was going to recover. It was something that she needed to hear.

But she still didn't feel warm.

The last time Azula was disturbed that night it was to hear her parents arguing in the next room. She shrugged off the furs and looked over to find that Zuko had been moved back to his own cot, only a few feet away from her. There were bandages on his face and more peeking out from under the covers. Azula was about to reach out for him, but thought better of it and moved away.

Instead, she crawled over to the flap quietly and pulled it open just enough to see. Just in time to hear her father say, "I won't throw that around that kind of blame."

"You always pick her side!" Her mother was accusing, frazzled. It wasn't hard to figure out what she was talking about this time.

"I'm not on anyone's side," Hakoda defended, aghast. "There are no sides here." Azula had never seen them like this before. Her parents disagreed plenty of times, but they never raised their voices like this. Ursa's appearance was mussed and out of sorts, and Hakoda's stress was so apparent that even a girl as young as she was could easily see it. It wasn't normal.

But after a few more moments, Hakoda cut himself off, placing his hands on his wife's shoulders, head bowed. He lowered his voice and Azula barely caught the words he said next, "Please, Ursa, I don't want to fight. Not now, not like this." Ursa didn't reply at first, but slowly, her tense energy in her form loosened. The two of them were silent when they embraced. Azula realized that she didn't want to see them like that. But her mind was working too fast to go back to sleep either. The girl crept over to her brother's cot and sat down next to it, up against the wall. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested like that, just waiting.

Time passed, the air was too still and stagnant.

Azula rubbed at her hands, unconsciously.

When Zuko began to stir, Azula noticed immediately. She stiffened, but didn't change her position otherwise, watching as her brother groaned and shifted under the furs. A single blue eye cracked open from under his messy black hair to stare up at her. "Azula," He said, acknowledging her presence with a rough, croaky voice.

Azula looked away, crossing her arms across her legs. After a moment of silence, she spoke in a low voice, "I didn't do it on purpose."

"I thought…you said you didn't make mistakes," Zuko reminded her, haltingly. His speech pattern was filled with pauses, as though he were still too tired to be talking, but was forcing himself to keep going anyway. It would make a lot of sense for him to do that. Zuko was always the most stubborn out of any of them.

The girl hesitated, then worked out, "I lied."

Zuko didn't speak again for a while.

She expected him to launch into accusations–despite his condition–telling her off. Being every bit the same brother she was used to arguing with all the time. It really would be the most expected outcome for them to have. Instead, Azula saw him eventually respond to her words with a faint nod to show he understood. Her brother believed a lot of things he shouldn't, but at least he still believed her when it really counted. She was lucky.

"Earlier," Zuko started, twisting his hands in the cot, "Dad said that you were the one who pulled me out…" He stared at her again, almost imploring. "Is that true?"

Azula flushed. Dad actually told him that? When?

"Yes," She admitted, hands going white-knuckled from how hard she was tightening them.

There was another long pause beneath them before Azula heard him say, quietly, "Thanks." Zuko fell back into slumber almost immediately after that, leaving his sister staring at him with wide eyes. Eventually, she also fell asleep, in that same spot, not moving away.

After all, she didn't feel cold anymore.

.


	6. With These Hands

_(a/n: contains vague disassociating, victim-blaming, and some racist language)_

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _The day that Sokka's father burned his hands was the day that the boy's entire worldview was forced to change, Though he would never realize how much until later._

 _Sokka didn't immediately struggle against the powerful grip on his wrists when it happened; no matter how distant the man seemed at times, he never once expected for his father to hurt him. All Sokka had for reference into Ozai's nature was the time he spent with him. He remembered being taught about painting and art. He remembered pride and directness._

 _He didn't prepare for this._

 _The burning felt like it was going on forever._

 _Sokka had no concept of how measure that time, how to separate the pain from the reality outside of it. The pressure on his wrists kept him alert and conscious, even if he wished he wasn't._

 _But eventually, it did come to an end._

 _When it became more than apparent that Sokka wasn't going to be able to save himself, Ozai yanked his hands out of the bowl of fire and got to his feet, storming out of the room without another word. The door slammed behind him in an echoing crash._

 _Sokka didn't follow. He laid on his side from where he'd fallen, prone, and tried not to move._

 _He absolutely did not look at the burns._

 _His hands were in agony, and the slightest twitch of his fingers only made it so much worse. He just had to not move, if only it were that easy. His mind was fading in and out of awareness, and his hands were the only sensation still keeping the young boy awake. Thankfully, the smell wasn't strong enough to break through the haze Sokka was left in. And all of his sense of self was devoted to keeping still and limp._

 _Sokka would never be able to tell how long he stayed there, if it were only minutes, or if an hour had passed before the royal doctor and his aide finally came through the door._

 _As the man tended to the boy's hands with a cooling gel–Sokka unintentionally jerking at the touches all the while–he spoke of how...unfortunate that things had turned out this way. How Prince Ozai had been waiting a long time for this day to come._

 _And Sokka, confused and hurt, began to silently and unconsciously convince himself that his father never would have hurt him like that if he had just bended the way he was supposed to. If the flames had moved and jumped the way they should, even a little. And with that, the dull ache of betrayal in his chest was soon overwhelmed and buried by a far stronger feeling of shame._

 _Sokka...detached for a time as the man dressed his wounds. He was conscious but unseeing through the haze of pain. He felt like he was floating, drifting while his body remained in place. It was as though for a time the entire world and everything in it had ceased to matter._

 _But the only thing that Sokka remembered and recognized was his own twisted epiphany. That somehow the blame rested with him and no one else. That was what convinced him to alter the story when the doctor brought him to his mother, hands freshly wrapped in bandages clear up to the wrist. He laid the fault squarely at his own feet, that he was reckless with the test and jealous of Katara's natural talent, and never mentioned his father's hands ever touching his wrists._

 _In the end, she believed him, but that didn't stop his mother's anger._

 _The promise of sharp words and violence was clear in her gaze. And the moment she brought him back to his room–after encircling him with a careful hug and gentle words–Kya stormed away in search of Ozai._

 _There was nothing more for Sokka to do but try his best to sleep, and hope that the painkiller kicked in soon to let him fall into unconsciousness._

 _But as Sokka crawled into bed (ever so carefully to avoid irritating his hands even further) and tried to sleep, he couldn't get comfortable. And his mind wouldn't stop racing. His heart thumping with a beat of adrenaline, like he was still in danger even then. The memories on loop in his mind became too much to bear, succumbing to sobs in the dark room._

 _But he wasn't the only one around to hear it. Because, thanks to their mother–holding strong to the concept of close, shared spaces among family–the children of the Second Prince had shared rooms for a year, with two separate beds situated against opposite walls of their single room. And Katara, only half-awake and wondering where her brother had been for so long, startled to alertness when she registered the sound of choked sobs coming from Sokka's bed. The girl slipped out of her sheets and crossed the gap to climb up his. She'd never seen her brother cry like this before, and it shook her in a way she couldn't yet articulate._

 _There was something wrong and scary about it._

 _Whenever Katara was sad or got a bruise playing in the garden, Mom would give her a big hug. To say that she would get better, or that she would always be there._

 _Maybe that would help Sokka too?_

 _She leaned forward and wrapped her hands around him, leaning her head on his shoulder. And then she heard him whisper, "I couldn't do it, I couldn't…" and apologizing in barely heard mumbles to their dad. "Father… I'm sorry…" She didn't understand what happened to him or why, but she knew Sokka was hurting, and that's what really mattered to her._

 _Eyes watering, Katara clung to him until the exhaustion took over, and put them both to sleep._

* * *

.

* * *

In the end, Sokka lived through his ordeal.

By the time Fire Lord Azulon remembered that the children even existed and demanded an update from his second son, and learned of the nonbender within his own line, word had arrived in the capital that the Crown Prince was lost to the sea. Within a mere day, word of the disaster had spread to all corners of the Fire Nation capital. Lady Ursa and Iroh gone much the same way. Luck had not been kind to the Fire Nation's family or their many plans for the future.

But that same luck was kinder to the children's safety.

Azulon was vicious and bitter enough for the loss to tear at his son's inefficiencies, but he no longer had an heir with which to contest Ozai. He had no real fight or logical argument to offer in response when said Prince refused to get rid of his flameless firstborn son (either "by exile or by fire," Azulon had said). And no leverage with which to demand something meant only to harm those who were left behind.

He preferred to mourn the loss of the son he valued than deal with the increasing disaster that the royal family had become.

The Fire Lord shut himself off in his suite in the palace and refused to see anyone, venting and seething in private far from Ozai or his family. And thus the timing was all right for the flameless to be spared.

The children on the other hand, did not really know their uncle very well except through the stories thrown around by the guards. They heard that among the generals who fought for their country, he was the best and brightest, and probably one of–if not the–most skilled firebenders of his generation. There was a sadness there for the family member they never really got to know, but it didn't linger for too long. Not when the memory was so short. The most the two of them had gotten from Iroh was the gifts he sent home from his time in the Earth Kingdom.

Kya had been annoyed when she saw them, but ultimately did not deny them to her children.

They didn't understand the implication behind these trophies or just how the Crown Prince had obtained them. What was the harm in just letting them have something to enjoy?

It was as much as she could try to alleviate their family's current state.

Katara didn't play with dolls but she did think the girl in green was pretty and elegant, and made a nice fit when placed on her wall. Maybe she could have a nicer one made for her at any time, but it just wasn't the same. Besides, what of her time that wasn't consumed by her training and education was spent with Sokka, and she knew he wouldn't care about the doll. She thought it a neat little thing, a look into a bit of the Earth Kingdom that she knew nothing about, so far away.

Sokka's appreciation for the Earth Kingdom knife on the other hand was less impressive. Once he had fantasized about weapons (of being the "warrior" that his mother called him sometimes in her nicknames), but his burns and the ongoing physical therapy needed to even somewhat recover from them put a dent in that. It was a disappointment that nagged at him for a long time.

It would be some time before he would be in the condition to use that knife the way it should be, let alone actually learning to fight for real. Thus, til then, the blade would remain to be little more than a fancy decoration for him. Deadly decoration, but decoration all the same. And like that it would stay, until some years from then, when Sokka left the capital.

As it was, his slow path to recovery delayed a lot of what he planned to do as a kid.

The first time Sokka saw the scars in full light, and really _looked_ at them, he felt physically ill. He'd not been aware the first time the doctor actually went over the details with his mother, but he could still tell that it was _bad._ The palms suffered the worst damage, and the skin there was a raw, noticeably deep red, and prone to cracking with physical activity–something that was hard to avoid. From the tips of Sokka's fingers to just past the knuckles were vivid pink tissue, and fragile. All of the scars rendered his hands rough to the touch, slightly misshapen, and hard to move even with therapy. Thankfully, the damage around his wrists and backs of his hands wasn't severe enough to be permanently discolored, but it was a weak balm to an otherwise unbearable disaster. And yet, he kept the full extent of what he felt about them to himself.

And the first coherent thought that Sokka had in regards to the scars besides the _pain_ that was involved was that they were hideously ugly. _Untouchable._ And he couldn't stand the thought of showing them around. The one exception to that rule was, of course, his own family. Changing his dressings became a regular occurrence, one that his mother and sister helped him with when the attendants were unavailable or too slow for any reason. It stung and hurt in the beginning, but the predictable schedule of the act eventually settled him.

The moment that the bandages came off for the last time (with his scars barely looking any better to him than before), Sokka started wearing gloves. The thin, fragile silk threads could catch on his gnarled skin, but it was okay. As long as people didn't look at them.

Nobody had to see.

And yet, somehow, he was most torn about what happened with his father, and that was long after the worst had passed.

When the dust had settled, and the nation was consumed and distracted by the loss of their Crown Prince, the knowledge of what happened to him was kept quiet. Outside of the royal family, only a small group of close royal advisers and a royal doctor knew that Sokka was really scarred because he lacked fire. (Though even they didn't know _exactly_ how that had happened, not that Sokka was cluing them in.) And there was an unspoken rule in the Palace not to talk about it. The young boy distracted himself with his puzzles and his haphazard sketches. But, despite that, Sokka was thinking about how his father wasn't spending any time with him anymore. It was impossible not to think about it when his adventures in the art world started to stagnate soon after Ozai stopped teaching him. Even the boy's growing fascination for the engineer's advancements in industry couldn't hold his attention for very long. The distance that formed was so hard for him to bridge. Or even attempt to if he worked up the nerve to try.

His father had to be ashamed of him for failing, that was the only conclusion Sokka came to.

In fact, the length of time it took for his father to meet with him alone again was enough for that suspicion to solidify itself in the boy's mind.

When he was finally called to his father's room, late in the evening, Sokka's nerves were jumping from all of his pent-up anxiety. It had been a long time since they had met alone like that. It hadn't happened since the...incident. The boy didn't want to say that he was afraid–he wasn't supposed to be afraid of his father–and in his head he chalked it up to just plain old nervousness. Just for his own comfort, Sokka acquired a new pair of gloves for the occasion.

Ozai was standing at the far window when Sokka entered, turned away to gaze outside into the distance, and his arms loosely crossed together beneath his heavy robes. Without even thinking about it, the boy studied his posture, and found it to be calm yet stiffly formal. His father didn't seem angry, but distant.

Again.

The days before that seemed so far away now.

Sokka stood quietly, heart pounding, "Father? You called for me?"

Ozai didn't turn around to face him. Maybe he didn't want to, or maybe his gaze was fixed on something in the distance. "Sokka," He spoke and the boy abandoned his thoughts and straightened quickly to attention, "Quite recently, I had a conversation with my aide and your mother, and we've decided to make some plans for your future."

 _With mom?_ Sokka tensed, unable to guess what this would entail.

"I've been told by your tutor that you have...a knack for, shall we say, building new things. And finding solutions." Sokka perked up; he didn't realize that anyone had noticed what he was interested in, what his puzzles eventually led him to. "We've decided that, within a few months, you'll be apprenticed with the engineers in order to better hone those abilities for the sake of the Nation," His father glanced over his shoulder, then turned to face him head on, meeting his son's golden eyes with his own, expression severe. "Is this acceptable to you, Sokka?"

Acceptable? It was a far cry better than any of the possibilities that Sokka had entertained in his head. "I...yes, I won't let you down," The boy worked out.

He would have continued if his father hadn't held up his hand at that moment, gesturing for his attention. Ozai's voice was more serious than Sokka had ever heard it, "Outside of the family, and a select few aides, no one is aware of your...condition." The boy flushed, the excitement he'd built up draining out of him quickly. "And…" The man continued, "it must stay that way. Do you understand how important this is?"

Sokka nodded, despite his uncertainty.

He didn't want to look like a fool in an important moment.

His father continued onward regardless, "In times like these, the Fire Nation has to project its greater strength to the world. That has become twice as important following the ah...unfortunate passing of the Crown Prince," He went silent for a few moments. "For now, the aides will make certain that your identity is not compromised to the public, but in time, this will become your responsibility to uphold." Ozai turned away from him, point made, "That will be all, Sokka."

It was a dismissal, clear as any other. It was really more of a status update than a real discussion. But all Sokka could think was that it was the first time they'd really talked since _then,_ and the boy couldn't help but try prodding at old wounds, "F-father...Dad...about last time… I just...just wanted to say I was sorry I couldn't do what you wanted, that I tried, and–"

 _"_ _That_ will be all, Sokka," His father repeated in a clipped voice, cutting him off.

The boy bit his tongue and stepped away. As he backed out the door, Sokka finished his sentence in a murmur, barely audible, "I won't fail you again."

* * *

.

* * *

Ever since she started firebending for real, Katara's life in the palace was always a busy one. If she wasn't learning about firebending from her teachers or her father, then she was with her tutor, or her mom and brother, or playing in the garden.

The quieter times were when she spent most of her time with Mom.

Lady Kya, as the servants called her, always had time for her kids, even with all the work that she apparently put on her own plate. It wasn't a normal day unless she was multi-tasking.

The servants all seemed to be on friendly terms with her and were always eager to help, so she didn't really _need_ to work. Her mother however, had a work ethic that was rare in the Fire Nation. Something that probably came from her homeland, and eventually passed down to her children, what with Katara's firebending katas and her brother's ever-increasing interest in machines. Katara heard from Fei that her mom always needed something to do long before she and Sokka were born. And that at least, hadn't changed since her children were born.

It's something she's reminded of one night when Katara catches her mom on a rare occasion when she's alone in the evening. Usually her parents are in the same place late in day, but not this time. Her father was busy with one of his later running firebending sessions (one of the ones Katara wasn't allowed to go to; Ozai's katas were too intense for her at her age, Mom had said). And Sokka dragged Fei off to escort him to library for his studies.

"Mom?" Katara spoke up, pacing into the sitting room, to find her seated at a desk with a stack of paper at her side and writing something in front of her. Curious, she stepped around the table to her mother's side, trying to peer up at what she was working on, though it was a bit too high.

"Oh, Katara! I didn't see you there, sweetheart," Mom exclaimed, setting aside her writing utensil and peering down at her. "And how were your studies today?"

Immediately the young girl's eyes lit up in response, recounting the newest change she'd experienced. Her near daily transit to the Royal Academy was necessary for the schooling Katara went through, and Sokka was tutored elsewhere, yet they were so stiff and formal that she didn't expect to actually find a connection there. "They were just fine, I even made a couple friends today!" Maybe a bit premature to use the word 'friend,' but from her perspective, there could definitely be something there. "Two of them, around my age," She continued, unable to stop herself from filling her mother in on the news. The two girls she met and talked to that day were so different from each other that they were nearly complete opposites: Ty Lee and Mai, one from a sprawling family, and the latter from a considerably smaller noble family.

As she regaled her mother with the tale of striking up a connection with the girls, the woman's face eased into a smile. Katara would remember later the stress on Kya's face that had started to relax the moment she spoke to her about her day.

"Well, maybe someday soon we can invite them over," Mom spoke encouragingly, "I know everyone's been too busy around here lately. With your father's duties and...well...we could always use something to lighten the atmosphere every now and then."

"Thank you!" Katara was delighted. Finally, the chance to have someone around that wasn't her family or the staff. And Sokka was spending less and less time playing lately. But even as young as the girl was, she didn't miss the strange tone in her mother's voice when she mentioned it. Maybe it had something to do with the papers? "But...what are you working on?"

Her mother sighed, ruffling the papers in front of her. She hesitated.

"Well...Katara, did anyone tell you about what's happening in the Fire Nation? With the conflict?"

The girl paused, pursing her lips in thought, "The...uh...the war? About the fighting?"

"Not exactly," The woman managed with a strained smile. "There's a lot of people that are left back home, here in the Fire Nation that have been affected by the war. Many of them have lost family or friends, and even for the ones who haven't, they've lost their fortunes as well. The war with the Earth Kingdom has made a lot of needy people, even here in the capital." The smile (however weak it was in the first place) falls from Kya's face, "I've been talking to some people in the palace. Sending some letters to those I can't meet in person. Some of them would be able to lend a hand to help the unfortunates here. But...I'm not having much luck so far."

"Why not?" Katara asked, unable to fully believe that no one would help. It was a good cause.

Mom released a sigh and a faintly disappointed look. "Unluckily for me, the advisers here and a lot of the nobility don't have the highest opinion of me. Ever since I married your father, they thought I was just a–" She stopped herself, before continuing on in a slower tone of voice, "Usually, it's better not to confront them. But I do need to convince them to help."

The young girl didn't have a solution for her. Not really, except to encourage her to keep trying. Either way, she could tell that Mom's countenance was a discouraged one, that she didn't think her efforts were making a real difference. Instead, Katara climbed up the cushy chair into her mother's lap as said woman pushed the papers aside and relaxed to make room for her.

"The longer the war continues, the more people are affected. The Fire Nation is not an exception," Those are the words Lady Kya says then. And there is power in them.

Katara wished _she_ could end the conflict somehow. To ease her mother's mind at least.

 _As soon as possible._ If that could somehow solve the lines of tension in her mother's face.

But how was she supposed to do it?

Katara wouldn't find an answer to her dilemma that night, and ended up drifting off to sleep with a racing mind in her mother's lap. She didn't even realize that her very presence there had lightened the shadow in woman's heart, without the promise for action and change that had been waiting on the tip of her tongue before she faded into dreamland. Even after that day, the conversation still echoed in her thoughts without stopping.

The easiest way to push her to ease and get her blood pumping again was training.

That was the specialty of Katara's father.

It wasn't often that Ozai was the one teaching her hands-on–it was usually one of the career instructors employed by the nobility that taught her what she knew. But he did sometimes sit in on the the sessions and asked for details to her progress over dinner. And every time her father would get an earful of her enthusiasm for the craft. Katara loved training. Something about the satisfaction of the work putting her at ease.

Pushing herself to the limits and showing up the teachers (and their questionable expectations of her) was only one of the perks of the experience. She saw the way people's eyes would linger on her, studying her. They underestimated her firebending because she was a halfblood, Katara could tell.

Father didn't deny those suspicions. He only encouraged her to "prove them wrong."

Father was always pushing her to be the best she could be. The doubt that people around Katara leveled on her only served to make her more determined to be better.

And it didn't take long for that attitude extended to other things in her life as well.

Even to her family, in some respect. Or, rather, to one person in particular.

Responsibility was important to royalty, Katara learned as such from an early age. Her father told her that he knew that she was going to become powerful in due time, and she would have a responsibility to guide those who weren't. That she would be a great force in the world when she was older. Katara didn't fully understand at that age, but the seeds were planted.

And she did know that Sokka wasn't like her.

In fact, soon after Katara found out her brother couldn't call fire to his hands like she could, they got into their first real fight. It was just a small thing at the time, but it did end up leading to something much greater. Katara was only showing off her skills in the garden, and Sokka–in one of his foul moods–insulted her gift and said her flames were "far weaker than Dad's."

Even if the latter was technically true, that didn't stop the spitting fury the hot-headed girl responded to him, in words she didn't think through, "I'm still stronger than you'll ever be!"

She didn't get the chance to see the expression on his face. Sokka shoved her away from him, hard. And Katara's arms windmilled helplessly before falling into the pond behind her with a splash. Her brother had already ran off before she pushed the wet hair out of her eyes. Katara would find him later, sitting before the hearth in their room, one hand half-raised near the dancing fire as though warming himself. But she knew better. Sokka was just... _trying again._ He did it often enough that it was beginning to become a habit for him. Never led to any change though.

After a moment or two, he spoke up, slowly, "I'm sorry for pushing you."

Katara followed immediately afterwards, "I'm sorry I was mean."

But what the young girl did not tell her brother that day was that she had only apologized for the _way_ she said those words, the harsh delivery of them, but not the meaning of _what_ she said.

It was a mean truth, but it _was_ the truth. Even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

Katara was stronger than him. And that also meant she had a responsibility to him.

Eventually, wanting to help in her own way, she started using a bit of her time in the evenings heating up the bowl of medicinal oil that Sokka used for his scars. Not a complicated task, the girl simply cupped the earthenware bowl with both hands and warmed the liquid within until it was as hot as good bath. And soon after, her brother would bathe his mottled skin in the amber-colored oil until he was numb and relaxed, both body and mind. Without treating himself with it every so often, his hands would tighten up like a vice, and his scars might crack if he pushed himself too far. Over time, he needed the treatment less often, but never stopped it entirely. Initially, that was just one of the jobs that were all done by the family doctor, but when her brother was feeling stronger (and started to grow uncomfortable with the man's impersonal care), Katara decided to pitch in every now and then to help when needed.

Which was often.

Ever since Sokka apprenticed under the capital's premier engineers and inventors by their father's decree, he used less and less of his spare time to play with her. He apparently had the potential. It went a long way too, when one of the basement rooms was eventually converted into a personal work space for Sokka. But she still felt frustrated with it.

More than once Katara had found him in his new "workshop" on some secret new project of his, working his fingers to bruising, and even redder than before. And when she dragged him out to deal with his new, practically self-inflicted injuries, Sokka's mood would steadily sour.

If he wasn't overdoing it, and Katara at least feigned an interest in what he was working on, Sokka was a great deal more talkative. Listening was the only way to decode her brother's projects. His notes and journals were written in a rough, shorthand scrawl that only Sokka seemed to be able to read, and the sketches garbled enough to need his translation. Since he also started complaining about other engineers and designers being spiteful of his talent and trying to "steal his ideas," how intentional this was was hard to guess. Not that Katara told him _that_ out loud after the first time. Her brother was unusually sensitive about his artistic qualities.

And like before, Katara's latest trip into his 'domain,' yielded another new discovery.

"Katara, could you please take a few steps to the left, please," Sokka said distractedly, currently hunched over an assortment of metallic pieces and scribbled diagrams, gesturing at the shadow she was casting over his work. He was so focused that he didn't even turn around.

The girl huffed and stepped out of the path of the lamplight. Her eyes were drawn to the closest sketch on the table. "What are you working on this time?" She asked, picking up the parchment and turning it over in her hands as she tried to decipher it. It looked like some sort of star? Maybe a sun, with sunbeams(?) shining off of it. And...underneath a mountain range?

"What does it look like?" Sokka said, metal clinking in his hands as he pieced them together.

"Ummm…" Katara started, knowing that whatever she guessed probably wouldn't be right.

Her brother muttered something under his breath before speaking up before she could finish, "It's something I'm making for the navy. It's a bomb that that can be placed underwater to deter the Earth Kingdom ships. I thought we could use a more hands-off approach for the sea…" Sokka continued, talking about the weapon's specifics and what an advancement it would be for the navy, but Katara was already distracted the moment he mentioned making a bomb.

A bomb? That was what her brother was making now? Wasn't that dangerous for him?

Something about her unease must have showed on her face, because when Sokka turned around to face her he heaved a sigh and spoke up, "I'm not testing it down here, Katara." He sat up as the girl shook herself back to awareness. "The ingredients are all inert at the moment. If I want to test it again, I'll have a few carted down to the coast and set them off there. Relax." He started going on about the chemicals he was using to produce a big enough explosion, how so far the bombs hadn't been set off to his satisfaction, and so on. Katara wasn't fully listening, her eyes drifting over the yet to be connected pieces of the bombshell–large curved metal parts with rounded spikes poking out from the convex side–before casting her gaze elsewhere.

A set of pinned papers on the far side of his desk caught Katara's attention. Among them were various sketches of a boat–the same boat in all of them it looked like–with images of anchors(?) repeated all across the hull. It might be some new prototype of warship, but it was also pinned together with a stack of papers as though it were extra important.

Before he could stop her with a shout, Katara had already crossed the distance to pick them up, flipping through them with her fingers. The first thing she noticed was images of that same prototype ship circling a round object–the globe? Several pages of Sokka's scrawled journaling shorthand that she couldn't translate, but she did pick out several important words: "Northern," "colonies," and "Air Temples." What in the world was all of this? This wasn't some new invention or weapon of his or something like that. More like...travel plans.

"Give those back," Sokka said irritably, yanking the papers out of his sister's hands, turning his back to her and carefully fixing the pile on his desk.

"What in the world was that, Sokka?" Katara asked, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Maybe it was because he knew full well that Katara would go to their parents if he tried to keep secrets from her, or that he didn't want to try to shout her down, but Sokka's shoulders soon slumped in defeat and he turned back around. He gestured for Katara to take one of the spare stools scattered around and sit down at the desk with him. "Before I tell you about this, you have to promise not to tell Mom about it," He murmured seriously, leaning in conspiratorially.

"What? Why would I have to do that? What exactly are you plotting?"

"Katara, just give me this one thing! Please," Sokka quieted himself, looking down at his hands.

That wasn't fair at all. She wasn't _always_ on his case. But, if he was convinced to spill this strange secret, she was willing to indulge him this time, "Alright fine, I promise not to tell."

Sokka breathed out, spreading the papers he was holding onto so closely on the desk. It wasn't until he started talking that she was enlightened. "There's an old family tradition in the royal family that was around since before we were born. Both our father and grandfather participated in this, back in the day." Katara felt her eyes widening; she'd heard of this before. Sokka acknowledged her recognition with a nod, "The Avatar. They both went looking for them in the past and didn't manage to find him back then. I need to try as well if I can…"

Katara was in shock. _This_ was his big secret? "Sokka that's crazy! First of all, it's way too dangerous for you to just take a boat and circle the globe, searching for the Avatar. And even if that wasn't the case, Dad would never let you go. You're needed here in the capital, remember?"

"I knew you'd react this way," Sokka grumbled, a tired twinge appearing in his eyes. "Look, you may not believe me, but I did think this through. The prototype–not to mention the elite crew I'd get together–is what's there to keep me safe. Stop being so overprotective!"

What? She was exactly as protective as she needed to be. Especially for him. "I, I'm not over–" Katara started before she was quickly interrupted.

"Yes, you are! Ugh, just hear me out for once!" At his words, Katara had reeled back in offense, an objection on the tip of her tongue. How could he say that? Despite her frustration however, she did remain silent this time. "I have plenty of defense against the dangers out there, so that's not an issue, and on top of that, I wasn't planning on leaving until my thirteenth birthday…" Katara frowned; thirteen still felt too young for this, but chose not to comment. "Not that I was going to tell Dad that I was planning to look for the Avatar anyway…"

The girl's expression perked up in interest, "Wait, what was that last part?"

"You're...right that our father wouldn't let me go if he knew what I was planning to do. So...it's going to be a secret. You're going to be the only who knows that I'm searching for the Avatar. Mom and Dad are only going to know that I'm going on a expedition across the Fire Nation territory and our established colonies." Sokka nodded to himself with certainty, "That's the best way to do things. Even Dad would agree to a mission like that."

Sokka was arguing full-tilt; it was surprisingly important to him for his mission to be considered.

Katara still didn't like the idea.

She still thought it would be too dangerous for him to go abroad. What if he got captured and hurt by some Earth Kingdom brigands? Though she could probably convince him to increase the size of the crew… A real, proper royal guard should be the first thing on the list. And Katara didn't know if this "prototype" was really as effective as Sokka was hyping it up to be. She'd have to wait and see in the future when it was actually built.

The one thing she _wasn't_ concerned about ironically, was the idea of Sokka actually crossing paths with the Avatar. As amazing as it would be to finally track him down, she didn't think Sokka actually had a clue of where to start. Katara didn't think he would even find the Avatar, let alone track and catch him, so it wasn't something to really worry about.

Katara sighed and relaxed her stance, tension draining out of her. "Well then, you still have a couple years till then, so you have plenty of time to get ready."

Sokka relaxed, giving her honest smile then, "Thank you, Katara. I really mean it."

For a moment the young girl felt a little guilty over her false acceptance, but her brother would see for himself sooner or later that this mission of his wasn't going anywhere. Sokka didn't cling to pointless causes like that. The moment it became clear he wouldn't succeed, he'd go home.

And if it took a whole quest for him to see the truth, then she just had to be prepared for it.

* * *

.

* * *

In the height of summer in the Fire Nation, the entire country had a celebration honoring the day in which the sun was at its strongest, the Summer Solstice.

Every year, this annual celebration was the largest one in the nation, and everyone had something prepared for it. Even the armies fighting abroad found their own ways to acknowledge it with halted naval operations. And still others received military leave to celebrate in the colonies as they could. But none of that compared to the homeland celebration in the capital city.

The streets would be packed with temporary stalls selling handmade trinkets to commemorate the nation or the Sun Spirit Agni, or set up to sell fresh cuisine to any passerby. Long strands held strings of paper lanterns, some handmade by various sellers for the festival, yet to achieve their full brilliance with the sun still drifting above the horizon. Much larger lanterns built from spun golden silk were positioned above the highest rooftops in the city, glowing brightly like miniature suns. When the sun fully set, they'd be the crown jewel of the decor. Foot traffic in the upper city slowed to a trickle as revelry spread to the lower quarter where various performers, dancers, and actors were putting up shows on side streets and erected stages.

And for those who who couldn't handle the excitement and energy of the event, the Fire Sages in the capital had organized a special meditation ceremony to give thanks to Agni. But by and large, most of the population had other things in mind.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a fiery glow across the sky, the beginning of the celebration's biggest shows began. As the light drained from the sky, fireworks rocketed into the sky, screaming bombs of every color exploding for the amusement of the gathered crowds.

For such a big celebration, not even the royal family could really avoid it.

Sure, it wasn't considered socially acceptable for royalty to mingle to closely with the public on the crowded lower quarter. At least it wasn't safe.

But that didn't mean they _didn't_ attend at all.

On the heels of an opulent lunch, Kya and her children were given a lavish escort to the more high-end stalls and performers that the upper city was still host to. Fei stood alert at the children's' side as they poked and prodded at various collectibles while the sellers babbled on about them, excited for the opportunity to sell his wares to the royal children. The guard would look stoic and defensive if it weren't for the fond glances he gave the kids whenever they spoke up, pointing out trade items and antiques that they didn't usually see.

Katara eventually selected a perfect oval gemstone of red coral strung on a golden silk choker, glinting in the light and cool to the touch. Compared to many of the other jewels, hers was surprisingly simple in design. But no one could deny that the gem looked elegant on her.

Sokka, on the other hand, moved back and forth between the stalls, forcing the escort to tail him unswervingly all the while. He was always picking up objects and turning them over to look at them more closely; normally the sellers had an issue with people touching their wares without buying them, but no one was going to raise that objection to the prince. If anything, Sokka's pickiness and well-known inclination to window shopping only made the shopkeepers more eager to appeal to him to compete with each other. Every item that he ended up putting back only made them more determined, but the boy didn't even seem to notice.

The stall that finally captured his attention was the animal seller, talking loudly to compensate for the yowls and chirps of the caged creatures around him. Sokka was drawn to the brilliant red feathers of a dragon-hawk messenger bird. "He's a very rare breed," The shopkeeper boasted, showing off the bird's crimson plumage, "and highly intelligent as well. You can teach him anything from sending messages to even lacing up your shoes for you!"

As he looked over the animal, something seemed to spark in Sokka's golden eyes.

It seemed like they finally had a winner.

Only moments later, a surprisingly calm and well-behaved dragon-hawk was perched on the boy's shoulder as he walked, expression bright as can be. "You're a beautiful bird, are you? Yeah, you know it," Sokka cooed at him, brushing back the long fringe of feathers atop the bird's head. He hadn't looked so carefree and excited in quite a while.

After Kya gone through the trouble of talking to him making sure that he was prepared to take care of an animal (and Sokka rattled off a list of what a messenger bird would need and where to house them), she acquiesced. The boy had been more than ready with his argument. And from his behavior, the hawk himself seemed more than happy to change owners. Of course, the moment her brother's new pet yanked a piece of bread out Katara's hand as they toured the stalls, the girl already wasn't on good terms with him. "Why'd you have to get a hawk anyway?"

"Because _Hawky_ is amazing, and I'm going to teach him to be the smartest hawk in the world," Sokka said, utterly self-satisfied. This purchase was not one he was going end up to regretting.

Katara cast a glance at her mother with a brow raised in curiosity. _'Hawky?'_ She mouthed.

Kya just shook her head with a fond smile. Let him have his fun.

After dropping off the bird at the royal aviary for the day, the family's escort brought them to the theater for the annual solstice celebration. The theater usually hosted several acts for the evening, and it became a sort of tradition for the royal family to attend them and then afterwards going straight outside to watch the rest of the fireworks until the finale concluded.

But the moment the three of them found their seats in the theater's reserve box, a problem immediately presented itself. "Where is Ozai?" Kya spoke up, her gaze drifting to the empty seat. Prince Ozai had no interest in festival stalls and street-side performers, but he did show to the theater, usually meeting the rest of them there as the finished up seeing the sights. But it was strange for the man to not already be there. He shouldn't have anything important left to do; workload for everyone, including the royal family, dropped a great deal for the event.

Her loyal guardsman gave the offending seat a concerned look, "I was informed that the Crown Prince took a detour to speak to the Fire Lord on his way here. But I didn't expect their meeting to continue on this for long." The look of disappointment that followed his words appeared almost instantly on the children's faces, and Fei hurried to backtrack, flustered. "But I'm sure it was just a minor delay!"

But Kya wasn't prepared to wait. "No, if he comes any later, the show will have already started. Ozai knows full well how important this is to the kids," She got to her feet, placing a gentle hand on Katara's shoulder when the girl tried to stand up to follow her. "The two of you can wait here with the escort. I'll go back to the palace and find your father before too much time has passed." The woman didn't waste any more time, gathering up her dress and marching out of the theater with Fei hot on her heels.

She needed this evening to go well, for the kids' sake.

Ever since the incident with Sokka' burns, there was a strain in her life that wasn't there before. Or, not to the extent that it was now. Ozai had kept his promise to her; he protected Sokka from the Fire Lord's wrath. But he _had_ grown more distant. But if anything, that only made his children want his attention more than ever. Especially Sokka, who clearly wanted it the most, and got it the least (unlike before). Kya understood that a Prince had duties, but that was no excuse not be there. And though she got him to cave in a few times, it didn't feel like enough.

And as for Kya herself?

Well, she tried not to be too bothered by the blood on her hands, especially if it was for her son. But the woman had never taken a life, even indirectly. Tt was a secret she kept from everyone, and she had to shoulder it alone.

Only Ozai knew the truth.

Whatever he was up to now.

Most of the family' guards stayed behind just beyond the reserve seats to keep an eye on the kids. Kya only had a couple–including her most loyal–to take with her. "Are you sure you don't wish to call for a delay, Lady Kya?" Fei asked gesturing back at the theater. "I'm sure that the show runners would listen to you, and…"

Kya shook her head, "No, I don't want to inconvenience anyone. We're not the only ones who came to watch the plays today. It wouldn't be fair to them to sling around authority just for something like that," She sighed, and then forced a smile onto her face, willing the dark thoughts away from her mind. "Why don't you tell me something while we walk? Oh...what about your partner? I heard that he was promoted recently, isn't that right?" The man's eyes brightened up in response as Kya succeeded in changing the subject. At least he was truly happy.

At least for someone around her things were looking up.

* * *

.

* * *

 _The last-minute conferences were always the worst. Having to put off everything planned for the day, changing into formal attire, and marching into a dark-lit room, only to get insulted at least once for all his trouble._

 _Father was always like that. You weren't allowed to have plans that interfered with Fire Lord Azulon's thoughts. Even now, with his brother dead, the Fire Lord couldn't seem to give Ozai the respect he deserved, even when he literally had no one else to give it to. When it came down to it, Ozai's father was a bitter old man who knew that he'd lost, and was taking out his frustrations on everyone around him._

 _It was only a matter of time until the Prince inherited the throne, and Azulon was smart enough to know it. He was reduced, a weakening shadow of the terrifying Fire Lord he used to be. Ozai could see it clear as day. And the figure who once sent anxiety coursing throughout his bones no longer had that level of power over him. Ozai himself was no longer so weak._

 _If anything, Iroh's loss was what finally defeated Azulon, wearing down his aged bones._

 _So why even defanged, did his barbs still manage to hit home?_

 _He should have been toothless, an ailing Fire Lord getting closer and closer to his permanent retirement with every passing day. And yet…_

 _"_ _If that's all you needed me for, I have a wife to get back to," The Prince bit out the moment the conference ended, alone now with the Fire Lord, and his impatience to leave more than showing in his voice. But in the cold, quiet room, it was all too easy to hear the slightest sound, even the drop of a pin. And so, Ozai's feet hesitated on the threshold as he caught the faint sound of his father's cold laughter. He looked over his shoulder, meeting the slight sneer of the Fire Lord. "What," All that passed his lips was a flat intonation._

 _"_ _It's nothing much," Azulon said dully, "just hearing you honor that title is laughable, even after these years. More so knowing it was founded upon a lie. And even I can't stand enduring your ignorance for one more Solstice."_

 _Ozai didn't need this now, not on this day. His nerves were taut, and even the tone that he learned to ignore after so long now caused his jaw to tighten. "A lie?"_

 _Azulon let out another faint, raspy laugh, and yet his voice seemed to fill the room completely. The Fire Lord was on his last legs, white and withered, and yet men across the country still feared him. Feared his history. "Yes, a lie," The man repeated, taking his time. "I might even pity you, if I didn't already know how foolish you are, Ozai."_

 _The Prince in question felt his hands curling into fists. Anger he'd kept down for so long bubbling back up._

 _"_ _Do you know of what I'm referring to?" Azulon continued, calm. "Of course not. I can't even be surprised that you never figured out that your 'wife' never really cared about you at all."_

 _"_ _...You don't know what you're talking about."_

 _"_ _Don't I?" The Fire Lord spoke, disdain thick in his voice, "I have more experience with the Water Tribe. Honorless little deceivers, the lot of them. It's a defect laced into their blood." The man stood, tracing the wood grain pattern with his fingertips. The dull amber color of his eyes, long since faded with time, reflecting nothing at all. "And that woman you married is no different. Certainly, she only consented to tie the bond with you to save her own hide."_

 _"_ _Do not insult my wife in that manner," Ozai snapped, his temper finally giving way. He had long been coached in the past not to act so. Yelling at his father, for any reason, never ended well. But this time his patience had worn thin._

 _Not to mention that an attack on Kya, was also an attack on Ozai. And the man knew that well._

 _"_ _I will insult a_ savage _however I please," Azulon replied coldly. He lifted his chin imperiously. "I am witnessing the destruction of my forefathers' royal family unfolding before my eyes. First the Lady Ursa, then your disgraceful replacement, and my own beloved son… Disasters one and all." The Fire Lord stepped to one of the curtained windows, pushing aside one length of cloth just enough to allow in a sliver of light. "And here you are, defending your decision to create half-breeds. You truly are...a disappointment."_

 _The crackle of ozone was the first warning. The rapidly rising heat was the second. With Azulon's age and position, there was no way he could possibly avoid it._

 _Ozai extended his hand, and let his lightning fly._

* * *

.

* * *

The sharp cracking noise broke the conversation in an instant.

Kya glanced up at the ceiling in confusion, "Was that...fireworks?" The explosions might have started by now, but she didn't remember them being quite so loud before.

"I don't think so. It's coming from one of the upper stories," Fei cocked his head curiously. "In fact, I think the conference hall is somewhere up where that came from. Maybe something happened up there…" The guardsman led the way, marching up the stairs with Kya close by on his heels.

Now that she was thinking about it, the woman did recognize the noise.

But she didn't get much time to think about it. Before she could even think about the clear day , a day without thunderstorms, the door was before them. Fei raised his hand to pull it open, and instantly Kya's nose was assaulted with a vile (and familiar) scent, instinctively bringing her hand to her face to try to suppress it. It was the smell of cooked flesh, and dark memories of soot on icy coasts told her in no uncertain terms that it was human meat.

Blinking away her watery vision, Kya looked into the conference room to find Prince Ozai standing–transfixed–and staring down at a burned figure wrapped with fine crimson clothes. Without even thinking about it, she found herself walking inside, wide-eyed and silent out of some perverse sense of curiosity. Kya couldn't explain the feeling in her chest, but she she _had_ to walk into that room. Conversely, Fei didn't move from the door frame, gagging faintly beyond her range of awareness. And when Kya directed her sight down at the body, she realized she was looking upon the crumpled figure of Fire Lord Azulon. The scorched blackness that must've been the work of Ozai's lightning covered his chest, like a consuming sickness.

And somehow, miraculously, he still lived.

A harsh, choking noise came forcing its way out from the once-powerful Fire Lord's throat, one that Kya took a moment to realize was laughter. "A...fool to the end...Ozai." It was disturbing to realizing how much more emotion the man showed when he was teetering on the border between life and death. "You're...finished, both...of you."

Ozai didn't move, or even speak. Whatever emotion that possessed him to snap and attack in the first place was used up. He stared at his dying father with a look of confusion and dull shock. He didn't seem to realize what he'd just done.

"The royal family...ends...with me," Azulon's face curved into a rictus grin. Self-satisfied to the end. "The...Nation will know. You're...done. You and your...half-breed children."

He laughed again.

And in a moment, Kya saw white.

She didn't think, only felt. And the woman was no longer afraid of this broken Fire Lord who had tortured her homeland and murdered her people. This man who wanted her children gone because they were _born wrong._ Kya's hands were around his throat before she thought about it, squeezing the life out of him even as they shook from emotion. Tears gathered and spilled over in her eyes. "You will never hurt them," She cried out, "Never!"

The man who had once been so terrifying was weak and dying, and Kya was strong.

He broke, too easily, under her fingers.

Kya collapsed into sobs, tearing her hands back as the monster's life slipped away.

Ozai dragged her away from the body, shaken out of his trance by the woman's actions. He glanced between her, the cooling body, and Fei still standing in shook by the door. "Guardsman!" He snapped, calling the man to attention, "Lock the door, immediately! No one comes in, do you understand?" Fei cast his gaze in between all three forms, as though weighing his options (hesitating mostly on the figure of Lady Kya in tears), and then jumped to obey.

Kya was frantically wiping her hands on her dress, as though trying to wipe away Azulon's tainted presence.

"Kya," Ozai caught her attention with a large hand encircling her shoulder. "He's gone. We won't have to tolerate him any longer. No one will ever know." He caught her hands with his own. "After today, I will be Fire Lord, and no one will _dare_ to say such things to us ever again."

Were she more alert, Kya might have seen the darkness in those words, but she was too emotionally exhausted to know. As it was, Ozai embraced her, a victorious feeling crawling up inside him.

No one would ever know.

...


	7. Departures and Promises

A/N: I have many excuses, but you don't want to hear those. Apologies.

.

For many decades, the Southern Water Tribe had maintained a well-known antagonistic relationship with the Fire Nation force known as the Southern Raiders.

It went beyond the bounds of what passed as 'ordinary' warfare as far as the Fire Nation was concerned. Because while the raiders weren't precisely the best fighting force the Fire Nation had, they were the only force with the experience and tactics geared toward combating the Water Tribe specifically. The general navy rarely ever dealt with the Water Tribe, too busy going toe to toe with stalwart Earth Kingdom defenders to the east. And on the few occasions that they did, their heavier vessels were often confused and outmaneuvered by light corsairs.

Through it, the Raiders had spent such a long time combing the southern reaches and learning the terrain, that there were no other forces in the Fire Nation better suited to fighting the Tribe. Still, none of them could fully measure up to the sailing of a Southern fleet, even if they wouldn't admit it. But that didn't change the fact that they were still the best choice against the South.

In recent years however, a great change had swept over the navy's orders, one that disrupted their patrols and instincts.

First, Prince Ozai had them begin to pull back, and steadily transferred out the Raiders' staff to other fields, severely limiting their operations. There was more than a little grumbling over this decision. Prince Ozai wasn't usually known for pulling strings in the military, due to his lack of involvement with such, and it was generally agreed that his brother had more of a place to command them. _'Surely,'_ The soldiers thought to themselves, _'the Crown Prince's input would be more useful to us.'_

It was a sentiment that died rapidly after Lord Iroh's untimely death.

For a time the fleet made do with patrol runs and observing their enemy. And now, word had arrived that the then Prince had now become Fire Lord, due to an unfortunate incident with Lord Azulon's health. Unlike his predecessor, Fire Lord Ozai had zero interest in the South, or the navy's anti-tribe maneuvers. In no time at all, orders from central command called for a full withdrawal, citing that the Raiders' ships and soldiers would be put to better use fighting in the war against the Earth Kingdom than wasting resources on a block of ice. On paper, it read like a perfectly plausible explanation. No one really had any reasonable way of protesting against it.

But the Raiders had been hunting Southerners for generations, and not all of them were so eager to stop.

And every so often, there were little rebellions, most of which inconsequential. But one in particular was not, with much farther reaching consequences.

One soldier and one scouting mission was all it took for the balance to shift.

Under orders to stay away from clashing with Southern Water Tribe forces, a single scout–frustrated with the direction his mission had taken–took a single light boat to make a reconnaissance run. But, unsatisfied as he was, the man took the boat too far, and wandered too deep into Water Tribe territory. Lucky enough to sight shore without being spotted by patrols, the man found himself witnessing a secret the Water Tribe had been determined to hide.

Out on the ice, not far from the nearest settlement, was a young girl pulling water through the air. There was a boy watching her sullenly, but the soldier only had eyes for the waterbender and her lost art, watching fixedly through the shaking glass of his handheld scope. There hadn't been a waterbender in the South for many years as far as they knew, and the sight alone sent a strange thrill crawling up his spine. It was impossible to ignore. And it was even more impossible for him not to bring back word to his ship immediately, eager to change things.

The man turned his boat around and sped back to the cruiser with all the speed possible.

"You must be mistaken," The captain insisted when the scout relayed what he saw, "there hasn't been a waterbender here since before I took this position. I should censure you, private, for disobeying orders and then having the gall to lie about it as an excuse."

But the lone soldier was insistent, and months of inaction and slow transfers had worn him down. He described the sight he saw with utmost clarity and detail, from the way the water had bobbed and undulated in her hands to the girl's obvious youth. "Wouldn't you want to be the one captain who managed to bring back the glory back to the Southern Raiders? Their purpose?" The man spoke, bringing to mind the old days when the black ships moved with meaning, and firebenders of caliber tested themselves in battle on frozen plains against their ideal prey.

"Should have sought your true calling as an orator," The captain told him, laughing despite the way his mind wavered. He was nearly swayed to the man's words. "The Fire Lord will never believe you. And no ship will risk their standing with the mainland to ally with us even if we did act on your suspicions."

"They will when we bring in a real waterbender and prove everyone wrong," The scout insisted. "And then we'll get back the mission and respect we deserve."

Eventually the captain folded, his hunger for battle overriding the sense of caution.

The lack of attacks, the slow withdraw, both had slowly softened the Water Tribe's perimeter watch. The loops of their patrol runs had gotten steadily wider over the past few years as the Fire Nation's interest in the south waned more and more in turn. It would constitute enough of an opening to mount one real strike before the fleet could close in around them.

And it would have to be a single ship that made the gambit. No reinforcements were going to disengage from their positions to defy orders. They had only had to prove there were waterbenders still extant in the Southern Tribe, and the withdrawal had to be rescinded.

When they attacked, it was at high noon, with the burning heat of the sun protecting them. Where the warriors of the south had once been more alert, this assault took them by surprise, and the fighting immediately became a defensive skirmish on the coast. The clashing of bone spears began to ring out alongside the crackle of thrown flame. The old sight of fallen soot came back, a distant memory that some of the younger tribe members didn't even remember.

Zuko and Azula were among their number, for the Fire Nation had withdrawn its interest in their home well before their birth. Although they knew, both from context and the people around them, that the Water Tribe was at war (even secretly) with the Fire Nation, growing up with a Fire Nation mother was enough to unbalance their perception of the war. Even the old General the Tribe had captured never made any trouble for them, to the point where his mild behavior started to grow on people in the village (even if the elders wouldn't admit it outright). For all that Zuko was committed to defending his home from invasion, and Azula eager to see combat to test her bending against, neither of them had seen an actual Raider attack.

But if they couldn't do without seeing one, Ursa was determined that they not be involved in one. Her hands gripped tight around the children's' wrists as she pulled them away from the fighting. Both were resisting her.

"This is what we were training for!" Azula told her, her feet sliding in the snow.

"Where's Dad?" Zuko asked, his head scanning the area, "He's going to need our help!"

Ursa grit her teeth and didn't reply, too busy tugging her children out of the line of fire. Somewhere the invasion party wouldn't see them, and as consequence, find out what kind of children they really were. She remembered the threat of waterbenders and how their very existence was meant to be kept a secret. And, as if that weren't enough to worry her by itself, there was the fact that her own face needed to go hidden. Ursa had no guarantee that the Raiders' memories were any worse than Iroh's, who had known who she was immediately.

Unfortunately, Ursa was already too late for that line of thinking.

It wasn't only her face that made Ursa stick out so clearly in the village, but the drastically different colors of the clothes she wore and strikingly fair complexion of the woman compared to the villagers around her was a dead giveaway that she shouldn't belong there. And it was because of that detail, that soldiers from the attacks caught sight of her and chased her down.

The hut that the three of them took shelter inside of was no shelter at all. The moment Ursa stopped moving to take a breather, the wall was blasted open, the concussive force of heat throwing the woman and her children apart. Zuko landed on the far side of the hut, having lost hold of his mother's hand just before the attack. Now a large pile of fallen snow stood between the young boy and his family, as well as the armored firebender that was entering through the newly made wall. Zuko's eyes widened, shocked by his appearance. Before he could even think to bring forth his water, Ursa interrupted his concentration with a shout, "Zuko, go–find your father!"

"But–" The boy protested, wanting to protect his family, even if it wasn't yet within his power.

"Hurry, now!" Ursa said, "I can handle this!"

He didn't want to run away; it wasn't normally in his nature. But Zuko knew his mother was Fire Nation, and she knew more about the people there than he did. So when he did as she begged, fleeing to search for Hakoda, Zuko did so because some part of him believed that his mom could talk these invaders down. That was possible, right?

Unfortunately, the boy was wrong.

Ursa was relieved when her son obeyed her demands and fled, but there was no confidence that she could solve this peacefully. The woman was holding Azula close to her chest, nerves buzzing in alarm. The girl had been in the worst position when the wall was broken, and was knocked out cold. Hopefully, she wasn't seriously injured. But, if she could distract the soldier long enough (maybe with her Fire Nation blood), Ursa might be able to hold out long enough for Hakoda to find her and deal with this.

"Hmm?" A voice echoed out from under the metallic faceplate, giving Ursa the once-over. "Well, well, now this is a surprise. I thought my eyes might be deceiving me… I didn't expect to see more than one interesting target to chase."

More than one. What was he talking about? "Explain yourself, soldier," Ursa's voice snapped, her natural noble authority peeking through the surface of the peace she'd gotten used to.

Even through the mask, Ursa could see the sneer in the man's eyes. "Don't speak to me like you've got any power here, woman," He nodded with certainty, "I can easily tell you're not one of the Water Tribe's captives. Decided to get down and dirty with the natives, huh?"

Ursa's teeth ground together, an awful habit she'd picked up from her husband when he was upset. How disgusting. This man's behavior was vile. She remembered the Fire Nation military having more honorable attitudes than this. Unless… Unless she wasn't dealing with the typical naval forces, but something more untoward. A force specifically known for their dogged pursuit of the Southern Water Tribe, who lived–not for their homeland–but to fight. "You...you're not…" She couldn't finish. A typical commander might be someone she could try to reason with, but not men like this. The Southern Raiders were not her friends.

"Started to catch on yet, miss?" The soldier growled, stepping forward, tight fists oozing hot steam. "Try not to piss me off. I'm not in the mood to roast one of my own. Instead, why don't you hand over the waterbender, and I might decide to ignore your presence here."

Wait, waterbender? Ursa stared in shock; how did he know about that?

The woman backed away instead of standing still, and the firebender lost his already shaky patience, stomping forward and seizing ahold of the fluffy collar on her coat.

"That's enough, woman! Now just–" He stopped, blankly staring. Now that they were so close, the invader recognized something on the lady's face that didn't stick out to him before. The shade of her amber eyes, the color of her hair, and the shape of her face all told a message. One he was finally seeing. "Wait, I've seen you before," Ursa jerked in his grip as he spoke, causing the soldier to tighten his fingers enough to bruise, "you're that noble woman who went missing so long ago. A waterbender and a noble? I'm definitely getting a promotion."

Ursa was thrashing, trying to shake him off to no avail. She dug in her feet as the man tried to yank her toward the exit, sliding through the snow.

Somewhere inside her, a panic was building. Something about the girl she had clutched to her chest. The little girl–her daughter–who bore Ursa's face. Ursa had never liked the mirror between them, of the echo of her homeland that shone from the girl's face, of the world she left behind. It brought up something flawed and bitter inside her. Something festering that stood in between the love Ursa should have shown and who should have received it.

But then, Azula didn't choose to be that way, did she?

And it was knowing that these soldiers were going to kill her for being a waterbender, another accident of birth that she couldn't control, only made the fact more obvious.

The fear and shock she was feeling before was building up into anger, leading her to strike back. "Let go of me," Ursa shouted, using one hand to claw at the man's arm. The action caused her to lose her grip on Azula, and the girl slid from her grip to land with a plop on the hide-lined hut floor.

"W-what…?" Azula's voice was strange and shaky as she started to wake.

Before the young girl was a sight she would never forget.

Ursa was fighting off an invading firebender with her own two hands, standing in between the enemy and her daughter. Her normally passive face was twisted into something that Azula didn't recognize. There was anger in those eyes she'd never seen before. But Ursa was not going to be able to overpower a Fire Nation soldier trained in the art of combat. "Get out of the way!" He snarled as the woman's struggling hands grabbed him by the faceplate, gauntleted hands curling into fists as if about to resort to fire. "I'm not leaving without the waterbender!"

Azula backed away, thinking to call forth her water. When the heat in the room suddenly blossomed, the girl thought that she was too late. She was mistaken.

"I won't let you take her!" Ursa's voice called out, more defiant than it had ever been. As she lashed out with her hand, fire followed with it. Flames undulated like a wave from the woman's palm, enveloping the man from head to toe. The burning poured into the joints and holes in his armor. Under the chest, in the crooks of his arms, and flowing into his face. The soldier screamed in pain, ineffectually trying to bend the fire out of and off of him. As his struggles weakened, the invader crumpled to the ground, cooking within his insulating shell. In another moment, the man was gone, skin popping faintly as the embers charred him black.

Ursa stood over the ruined body, shocked and wobbly. Seconds later, her body gave out and she fell to the floor as well. She'd passed out from exhaustion.

Azula hesitated, her wariness for firebenders momentarily warring with her memory of her mother's strange and incomprehensible actions. After a moment, she moved to the woman's side and sat down, unable to touch her but also not wanting to leave. Ursa being a firebender was one bombshell to drop, but that she would act like that…

Azula waited there, puzzling out what she'd seen, until Zuko and Hakoda finally found them.

The Fire Nation assault failed that day.

The Southern Raiders could not have predicted the woman thought lost long ago would stop up their plans this way. Nor could they predict the Dragon that rose in defense of the Water Tribe that day. The moment the Raiders turned their sights to the unarmed villagers, their ship was officially forfeit. By spear, bombs, and lightning, the Fire Nation battleship was broken and sunk beneath the waves, and what left of their attacking force hunted down and defeated. Those who handled the end of the battle and resulting clean-up could only ponder why the Fire Nation decided to attack them now, after so long of ignoring them.

But one family had no time to think about the implications of the attack. At least not yet.

Hakoda carried his wife in his arms and he brought her back to the Chief's abode, nervous energy clear on his face. As they walked, Zuko interrogated Azula as to what happened after he left, but his sister didn't answer him, still confused and off-balance. When the man tucked their mother into cot, Zuko instantly set himself next to her, hands tight and expression making it clear he wasn't going to be moved. "Azula, I need you to go find your grandmother and bring her here. Can you do that for me, dear?" Hakoda's voice was gentle; hesitant as though worried he was putting too much pressure on her after what happened. But Azula nodded and gratefully exited the room; it was true that she was shaken, just...not in the way her Dad thought she was.

It wasn't hard to track down Gran-Gran, but it was at least a few minutes for her to get her thoughts in order before going back to the house. Just as she expected, when the whole family was together, everyone wanted to know exactly what happened and–after a brief prodding–told them everything. The girl left out her own internal struggles though.

"A firebender…?" Hakoda stared at his wife in surprise. Though he clearly wasn't expecting it, the man was more bewildered than anything else. "All this time…?"

"Her body temperature has dropped significantly," Kanna murmured, "Ursa's bending must have taken a lot of energy out of her. She's going to need insulation or the chill will be too much for her to handle." It was true. Ursa's skin was much cooler than before. It was like all the fire she'd used to kill the soldier was supposed to be sitting inside her chest, and now that she'd pushed herself so far, there was nothing left inside to keep her warm. Kanna and Hakoda piled thick furs up around her to try to stave off the cold. And it had to be done quickly, as the sun was beginning to set for the day.

The woman woke only once before they went to sleep, confessing that she never knew she could firebend to extent she did that day, "I'm sorry Hakoda...the only thing my flame has ever lit were candles… But that's...not an excuse...I'm sorry I never told you…"

That night, the family all bedded down together in the same room, generating all the heat they could to keep Ursa intact. Azula couldn't sleep, and as the night fell she was left staring at her mother's pale face. "Why did you do that?" The young girl asked her quietly, her mind hung up on all the attention layered on her brother. She wasn't expecting to receive any kind of reply.

"Azula...I could have lost you…" Ursa whispered, her gummed-up eyes cracking open to look at her daughter. "I'm sorry." The young waterbender didn't respond, blank-faced. "I haven't...haven't been doing right...by you. My daughter…" Ursa raised a shaking hand from the furs, upsetting her intricate nest and jostling the boy tucked into her side, reaching for the girl.

That caused a reaction.

Azula bolted, throwing off the furs tangled around her body and ran outside, sitting in the snow. Why? Azula liked to tell herself that there were few things she couldn't figure out if she tried, but her mother–much as she wouldn't–probably fit into that category. She'd gotten used to the dynamic; Zuko was mother's favorite, and what Azula couldn't get from her, she could make do with her father filling the gaps. She didn't like it, but she was used to it. It made sense.

This change of heart was not expected, and threatened what Azula knew about her mother.

The crunch of footsteps on the snow alerted her that someone had followed her outside. Azula glanced up to find her brother there. From the look on his face, he'd overheard what happened inside and was mulling over what to say to her. Zuko did that more often now; her brother's temper was still bad, but he was trying harder not to rise to the bait. Their relationship could be stilted and awkward, but the siblings had fought a great deal less since the incident on the ice.

It was easier now, partly because Azula didn't call him stupid anymore. Some of the taunts and jabs remained, as did his unwanted nickname, but the fighting had lost its purpose. It didn't make her feel smart or rewarded to win an argument with Zuko and his patchwork of icy burns.

But even so, they still couldn't fully understand each other.

"Why can't you move on from it?" Zuko asked, dropping into the snow next to her.

Azula looked away. "What do you know, Zuzu?" She said, ignoring the cringe that she was sure would be on his face. "You've always been mother's favorite. You just don't get it."

"I'm just–" Zuko paused, lowering his voice from the near shout that he was building up to, "I'm just saying that...if our mom wants to make things right with you, don't you think it's worth it to at least try?" He was so unlike her. Azula had the feeling that if their places were reversed, Zuko would still be vying for their mother's favor. Even the knowledge that she was a firebender wasn't enough to dampen his stubbornness.

Even if, intellectually and emotionally, Azula knew that Ursa reaching out was something she she'd wanted, that didn't mean she was ready for the change. And Azula didn't want to talk about Mom anymore, "It's not that simple." Her voice was stoic, and somehow, he seemed to get that she wasn't interested in pursuing the subject. Instead, they sat in silence. Zuko fidgeted, clearly disappointed he wasn't able to get through to her, but as long as he didn't start bugging her, he could stay. But then, there was a much more worldly concern to the village that she couldn't forget, "That soldier–the one mother killed–he knew I was a waterbender."

"What?" Zuko whipped around, staring at her, "Does Dad already know about this?"

"I'm sure he does," She said, knowing her mother would tell him everything, "and I know that, after the attack today, he's going to leave soon." The siblings' father leaving home was a sore spot between them, going back to the day Zuko had nearly been lost. But it couldn't be avoided forever. "He's not going to stay here...after that." Zuko clenched his fists and glared down at his lap, hating what she was saying, but having no argument to the contrary.

Because she was right.

The day after the attack, they learned that the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe could no longer stand to remain home. Not when the Fire Nation had attacked them again. It was Hakoda's duty to lead his people and be active again. Even his wife's condition–bedridden with chills and devoid of the inner warmth that had no hurry to return–couldn't stop the inevitable. Ursa's condition was stable, held in check by the healers and Iroh's firebending therapy, but she wasn't getting better anytime soon. Yet, she insisted that her husband's departure was what was best.

Both Hakoda and Ursa refused to let the siblings come with.

In no time at all, the remaining vessels had gathered at the coastline, fit to bursting with cargo and crew. The cacophony of the approaching cast-off filled the air.

Azula hadn't wanted to watch (something she had no power over, no ability to prevent), but her brother insisted. So she looked away when their father hugged her brother as he cried, Zuko's tears soaking into his parka, soothing the boy's pain. And when he moved on to her, Azula froze as he kissed her on the forehead and told his daughter that he would always love her.

He loved her, but he was going far away.

Azula and Zuko watched from the shoreline as the dependable figure of normally in their life drifted away to an uncertain war, and not knowing when–or if–he was coming back.

* * *

.

* * *

In a dark, metal room, waiting for his impending interrogation, was a man.

This man's name was not important, and his history was equally irrelevant. Or at least, no one in power cared for either of those things any longer except as a few measly lines to add to his eventual report. The moment he was sequestered in this prison, those details were quickly filed away as only secondary. Just another tally in the Fire Nation's record books.

What did matter was that he was a traitor, guilty of spreading heinous accusations against the royal family, and not turning tail to plead insanity to save himself. His punishment could run one of two ways: he could consent to a duel of honor–an Agni Kai–to be given the right to stand trial officially, or he could be swallowed up by whatever machinations the young Prince had in store for him. It was actually rather fitting then, that the man's crime was one that insulted the very Prince in question, and had no chance of being let go. The moment words spread of the man's actions, he was separated from the public by dutiful soldiers; treason was a very serious crime and had to be handled quickly and specially.

The prisoner was given no quarter; his wrists were caught by tight shackles that left bruises on his skin, and the lumpy cot was too poor to get a good night's sleep. And he was not even given the chance to acclimate to those quarters before the metal door was thrown open with a bang, allowing a set of guards to stride inside, accompanied by a shorter figure wearing a hood. Though it was early in the day, the Fire Nation had much to do before the hour was done, and there was no need to use up too much of it on one doomed man.

The guardsman on the left didn't even spare the prisoner a single glance as he unrolled a scroll, and began to read aloud from it, "Middle Class Lee Hae, you stand accused of spreading treasonous slander regarding the Prince of our Great Nation, creating unrest and besmirching the honor of the Royal Family. Do you understand the charges against you?"

"Nothing I said was a lie!" The man bit out, a harried, defensive look surfacing in his face.

The escorts sighed tiredly, as though they already knew where this proceeding was going and had no interest in hoping otherwise. Still, the lead man still recited the next part of his job, "We'll give you one more chance to avoid the worst. Do you recant, and admit your telling is false?"

Still boldness wasn't gone from him yet. The prisoner shook his head in denial, "I heard it from his own mouth. The kid–I mean, I overheard the Prince saying that he couldn't even produce a spark. He's a deceiver!"

The guardsman arched a brow imperiously, "And do you think the rest of the family couldn't find this information out on their own, and would have already acted on it if what you were saying were true?"

"I'm certain he could have hidden it, or have done it for him, like that wo–"

Another voice cut the man's voice off before he could continue, "Think very carefully before you speak, traitor. I hope you're prepared for a second sentence on that head if you're daring to make accusations about another member of the Family on top of what you've done already. And I would remember that any accusations against the Lady of the Family will incur the wrath of the Fire Lord." The hooded figure stepped forward, tossing back their shroud to a reveal a much younger face with glimmering amber eyes glaring down at the prisoner. "Now I've heard your thoughts for myself, there's no reason to delay judgement anymore.

The traitor's face gaped with a tint of panic, losing his bravado by the second. For all that he could dare to level slander on a nonbender Prince, anyone knew full-well that Princess Katara was a true firebender. Even at the age of twelve, her flame was already highly developed, enough to drive fear into the benders who incited her anger. And she was not afraid to use it.

"I've heard enough," The Princess announced, turning to the soldier on her right, "take him outside and we'll see if his bite is as bad as his bark."

The guards on escort wasted no time barging into the cell and pulling out the prisoner, taking no special care with his person. It would be fair to say that personal feelings might have helped influence their treatment of him. The nobility fostered a well-known and years old resentment of the Fire Lord's wife, but they were far too intimidated to speak a word of that where the Fire Lord could find out. His defensiveness of his wife's reputation was near-brutal.

But, to counteract the poor reception Kya received from the upper class, she was far more popular with the common-folk. And that in turn affected how they viewed the royal children, in spite of how little the people saw them. Most of the negative rumors about the pair (especially the Prince), were borne from the nobles and middle to upper class. Though...it was rare for one of them to be bold enough to make open accusations. Like the man they had detained now.

But as the man was hauled to his feet, dragged up the prison steps and into the entrance hall, there was already the other royal sibling there waiting for them.

Katara stepped back in surprise, "Sokka? What are you doing here?"

Her brother was conversing with the prison watch just inside the doors when they emerged, one of the royal guard standing at his side with a leather-lined case under his arm. The Prince was impossible to miss, even when compared to his sister. With the eye-catching bright red of the cloak draped around his shoulders, the polished gleam of his regalia, and his brilliant golden eyes. Even his hair was well-groomed into a topknot with a noticeable glossy shine. Between the two of them, Sokka was always the one who made sure to look his best; Katara suspected it had something to do with father, but her brother clammed up whenever she tried to pry.

It was a contrast to him in the workshop away from prying eyes, grease stains on his arms.

Upon seeing them, the Prince's face assumed a flat and annoyed expression, "I should be asking you that, Katara. Last I checked, I was the one to order this man's trial and arrest." He cast a glance at the loyal men at his sister's side, who hesitantly avoided his eyes.

"His crime is a dishonor of the highest order, Sokka." Katara crossed her arms, her behavior taking on a lecturing tone, "A duel of honor is the best way to showcase his weak character."

"The only way?" Sokka replied. "You're still not thinking outside the box. I already have a better option. There's no need for you to waste your energy with that."

It was at that moment that the prisoner in question jerked at his bonds and the soldiers holding him in place, spitting venom at the Prince, "Why don't you duel me yourself? I'll gladly challenge the Prince one on one, with no substitutes!" Sokka rolled his eyes in response, clearly not taking him seriously. With a sharp gesture of his hand, calling his aide up to his side, Sokka took the case from the older man into his hands. The prisoner immediately recognized it, "Wait that's...that's mine! Where did you get that?"

The Prince smiled and actually had the gall to laugh. "Where do you think? Someone who's accused of treason shouldn't be expecting much privacy. You're just one engineer out of many; don't expect to have special treatment. But since my dear sister is so impatient to see justice done, maybe we should have an impromptu trial right here," Sokka stepped over to the front desk and dropped the case on top, abruptly enough for the warden to step back in surprise, an anxious look on his face. Katara tried to catch his attention, frustrated with how he'd side-lined an Agni Kai and stolen her thunder, but her brother simply brushed her off. Ignoring protestations from the accused, the Prince produced a thin piece of shaped metal from a pouch at his side and fitted it into the lock on the case, bypassing the obstacle and popping the case open. The young Prince whistled, "Well, well, what do we have here?"

Carelessly upending the case onto the desk, a sheaf of papers scattered haphazardly across the area. Among them was a handful of papers blotched with red ink letters: The Fall of the Family. Loyalist papers. Ever since his father had taken the throne, a small and ineffectual group spread weak-hearted slander–in the wake of his uncle and grandfather's demise–that Fire Lord Ozai was an ill-omen for them all. Despite the heaviness of the statement, the Loyalists (or so they called themselves) lacked any real support for their doom and gloom claims, and being exposed as one made them little more than a pariah to be mocked. "Ah-ha, I was looking for this!" As if the papers weren't damning enough, Sokka pulled a set of distinctive journal pages and sketches from the pile, marked with his familiar shorthand scrawl.

Not only guilty of slander, insulting the Fire Lord, but also stealing from the Prince as well.

The weight of that dishonor was far too much to be graced with the chance to undergo an Agni Kai, and the man knew this, judging by the way his mouth flapped desperately like a fish above water. Permanent exile was the kindest fate this man could experience now.

Katara watched him flounder with a cold feeling, noting the very real panic break out on his face. And she realized that it was entirely possible, even probable, that their prisoner wasn't actually a real Loyalist at all.

But by no means did that mean that she actually pitied him.

Far from it. The venom and fury Katara spat in his cell was very real, and had fully intended on scarring him with her own fire in public eye for his crime against her brother. It was the direct way, the way of respect, and it was by her flame that justice would be done. And though she more than cared for Sokka–the highs and lows in his behavior notwithstanding–his fascination for dirty tactics and manipulation often grated on her nerves. This incident was no different; it reeked of Sokka's brand of behind-the-scenes machinations. The only question left was whether the criminal had only been framed as a Loyalist, or if the theft was just as ingenuine. Though in all honesty, it didn't matter either way. The end result would be the same.

Sourly, Katara crossed her arms and waited in impatient silence as the Prince directed the guards saying, "Get this traitor out of my sight, and out of the capitol." Exile then. A good enough punishment then, even if it was achieved in an unsatisfactory way.

But when the prisoner–newly fallen apart from Sokka's plan–was dragged off, he managed to shout one last insult before being taken away. "I know what you really are, Prince of Ash!"

Ash. Dead flame. It was a hateful nickname she'd heard once or twice before. Katara would have hurt the prisoner right then and there if the guards hadn't already followed their orders. Sokka's expression then was dull and unreadable, showing no response. Said Prince turned around to find his sister staring him down, he groaned and marched outside. She followed him quickly and the young boy bit out, "Oh, great, we're doing this again?"

"Really, Sokka? A frame job? What happened to the honorable path?"

"Don't talk to me about honor, Katara," He spat, the armored escort struggling to catch up to their fast pace. "Answer me this question then… I don't try to tell you how to firebend, so why do you think it's okay to tell me how to do my job? That man hated being an inferior designer to me so much that he was willing to expose the 'nonbender Prince' to the world. Now everyone will know that he's nothing but a joke to be dismissed and ignored. Not worth the effort of a duel."

That wasn't enough for her. "You should have let me burn him," Katara nearly hissed, and her brother froze in his tracks. "It's nothing more or less than an eye-for-an-eye. Justice. A public punishment for a public crime."

Sokka looked over his shoulder at her, gloved hands tight, "There are more effective, and useful, ways to break a man than fire."

.

.

.

Before Katara could even think of responding, there was a shout of recognition that effectively distracted them both. Lightly jogging over from the direction of the palace was a man that they realized was the family bodyguard, Fei. Keeping pace at his side were two much smaller figures. Two young girls. Kids known for their place as guests of the royal family.

As soon as they got closer, the girl wearing all bright reds and pink flung herself at the Prince in an excited hug, causing him to stumble back with a surprised grunt. Her friend only situated herself next to the Princess, a wry look on her face. Sokka caught his bearings, stepping back to let the girl back down on her feet, "Ty Lee?" She gave him a wide smile, cheeks faintly pink. He cast his gaze over to the black-haired girl, "Mai? What are you two doing here?"

Fei saluted instantly, the upward curve of his lip betraying his fondness, "I'm afraid that was my doing, my Prince. The young ladies insisted on being escorted to the two of you. I'm sure they just wanted to talk before the big event later today," The man explained, lifting his shoulders.

"It's alright, I'm sure they didn't leave you much of a choice," Katara told him, relaxing. The four kids and their detachment started heading back towards the palace, talking all the way.

It was so easy for the pair to defuse the tension building up between the siblings in that moment, even though it was clear neither of them were really aware of what was going on mere minutes before. Ty Lee placed her fists on her hips and pouted while the Prince avoided her eyes awkwardly, "Why didn't you tell us ahead of time that you were going to leave today?" She spun on her heel, ponytail swirling through the air, addressing her friend in a 'can you believe this' tone of voice, "I thought we agreed to throw a big party as a send-off. Tell him, Mai!"

"That is true," The quieter girl admitted, "You did say that." Her tone was so much more measured than Ty Lee's. An utter opposite. But there was still a faint smugness hidden in it.

"You really didn't tell them when you were going?" Katara's disbelieving voice piped in.

On the receiving end of two pushy stares and his sister's blank look, Sokka gave in, rubbing at his forehead. "You're right, you're both right, I should have said something. But...something came up and I was busy trying to deal with it before it became a bigger problem."

"You're always busy," Ty Lee whined leaning close to his side. "Show us something you made!"

Sokka sighed, defeated. "All right, might as well show you what I'm bringing with me."

The group of them returned to the palace, dismissing the guards to their stations as the Prince led the way down to his workshop. Fei excused himself as well, stating that now that he'd had the girls meet up with them, he had to return to Lady Kya. "Your mother is finishing up another meeting with the governor of the Taiyan region. Hopefully we can get him to fold our terms this time. She'll be back in time to catch up with your activities and see you off," The man smiled, leaving the group and heading out. Sokka hid his frown as he watched the man leave.

He hadn't told his mom how he was keeping people quiet, and had no intention of doing so. What mom didn't know wasn't going to hurt her. Anyone could see the Lady Kya was already dealing with enough from the nobility as it was. In truth, Father probably hadn't told her either.

With Sokka pausing in the corridor, Katara strode passed him into the workshop. Only to jump back in surprise as a shrill cry stopped her in her tracks. A large, crimson bird had flapped its wings in her face and shrieked in an alarm cry. The Princess cringed, sidestepping the wind buffeted at her and glared at the animal. Taking his cue, Sokka pushed his way in front of her, "Hawky, guests!" The red bird immediately calmed on command, alighting on the master's shoulder with an easy gesture that spoke of an easy familiarity, "I taught you well, didn't I?"

"Stupid bird," Katara mumbled, fixing her hair. Hawky had never got along with her. "You're using him as an alarm system for the workshop now?"

"Just for short trips, when I have to duck out for something sudden. Hawky doesn't like the dark very much," Sokka ended his sentence with an affectionate scratch to the hawk's soft neck. "Anyway, come take a look this." He led them over to his work table, where a sizable metal object had been placed, surrounded by dirty tools. The object was the length of Sokka's forearm and as thick around as a blacksmith's anvil, rectangular shape rounded off on the edges. Of note was the perfect circular hole visible on side. Without pause, Sokka hefted the object up and attached it to his hip with a harness and belt, resting roughly the way a saber would on a guard's scabbard. After a moment of thought, Sokka directed Hawky to a perch near the door, "Alright, now keep in mind this is a prototype…give me a bit of space."

The girls unhesitatingly gave him a wide berth. It was true that Sokka could make a lot of great things, but it also wasn't unheard of for them to blow up in his face.

The Prince lowered his left hand to his side, resting it in an indentation on the side of his creation, where a few important switches were resting.

As he depressed the first one, in less than a second a length of gray chain headed with a wicked-looking triangular hook rocketed out of the casing, smashing into the opposite wall with a crash. The speed and force of the blow left a visible crack on the masonry. With a click of the second switch, the chain was dragged rapidly back into its casing, hook compressing as it did so. The momentum caused Sokka to stumble back for a moment before he righted himself, flexing the fingers on his left hand, skin tingling. The kickback probably would have hurt worse if it weren't for the fact that he had some dead nerves in his hands.

"A grapple?" Mai asked, distracting him, "Did you pick that idea up from the tanks?"

Sokka huffed, "I wish I knew who made those, but yes. There's still balance issues I need to fix, so there's just this one, but haven't you ever thought about an everyman being able to get around like this?" He gestured widely, fishing for compliments with a grin.

Katara held up her hands and smiled, "You're smart, Sokka, but I prefer my feet on the ground."

"Have it your way. Doesn't change the fact that my way is the way of the future!"

The group had a lot to talk about. They spent the next hour there, with the Prince showcasing a number of tools and tricks he had packed onto his ship for the approaching voyage. Everything he suspected would useful if he got into a fight with the Earth Kingdom, or the Avatar. Sokka would be gone from the capitol for a long time; he hadn't excluded the possibility of being away for several years before his 'expedition' was complete. He had to cover his bases.

Soon enough though, the time wound away. It was almost dusk.

Sokka whistled, calling Hawky back to his shoulder, and they filed out of the workshop. The Prince took one last look at the room before shutting the door, expression dull. There was nothing about the space in particular that made it special, beyond the fact that when Sokka was working, there was no pressure to maintain his mask.

There was something about that feeling that was comforting.

And the next stop was dockside.

Sokka's ship was visible well before they reached the dock, a cluster of soldiers standing on salute around the wharf. It wasn't that the Prince's vessel was particularly large; in fact, it was a bit smaller than the average battleship, but sleeker and more streamlined in some places. But, if everything functioned the way it was designed, Sokka's ship was more deadly the norm. For all that he viewed his grapple as an accomplishment, the design of his ship was a crowning glory.

It was the harbinger of the Avatar's defeat.

Sokka blinked as movement on the wharf caught his eye. An escort was setting down an exquisite palanquin near the dockside, a beautiful transport meant only for the royal family. As he drew closer, a hand drew aside the curtain and out of the confines stepped Lady Kya, his mother. Years of trying to improve things for the people had left stress marks in the form of a faint streak of early grey that had appeared in her hair and the precursor to lines under her eyes. Yet she was still beautiful and beloved by the people, at least, those that mattered.

"Mom!" The royal siblings recognized her quickly, picking up the pace. The other girls backed off to give the family some space. They'd be waving the Prince off shortly anyway.

As soon as the woman caught sight of her children approaching them, her face broke into a full smile, "Oh thank goodness, I wasn't too late after all." Kya embraced Katara first in a gentle hug, before turning to Sokka, grasping his shoulders and looking over him. "You're getting taller every day," Kya laughed. "I asked Jee to be your captain for the voyage. Remember him?"

"Oh, isn't that the name of Fei's partner?" Katara spoke up quickly. Sokka nodded, arms crossed. He remembered the name, but he never met the man.

Well, he'd have plenty of time to get to know him after he set sail.

"Yes, I'm sure I caught him off-guard when I asked him to transfer to your ship, but I've heard lots of good things. And the man Fei chose would be trustworthy…" Their mom sighed, her expression concerned, "but...this is still so early… Are you sure you're ready for a trip like this?"

"Mom, I promise, I'm prepared for this," The boy assured her, far more patient and relaxed than he had when Katara tried this tactic on him. When his mother said it, her words sounded more genuine. Coming from Katara, Sokka felt like he was being treated like an invalid, made extra intolerable given that Sokka was older than her. Only his actual Mom was allowed to 'mother' him. "Hey, didn't you say once before that I would already be training to fight if I lived where you did?"

"I...I suppose I did, but not overseas," Kya looked thoughtful. Despite her obvious doubts, Kya had discussed this with him before, at length, and with Ozai. And she trusted his guards. Her deep blue eyes–strange and unusual in the Fire Nation–met his. It was piercing. As though Kya could see through him, and see the poisonous thoughts that infected her son, driving him to dark extremes. But she didn't know. Sokka made sure of that. "Sokka, I know you've already made your mind up, and your father gave his permissions. As long as you follow the route, and stay in touch, I'll be alright. It's just that...well...mothers like me, we can't help but worry."

Sokka felt a bitter sting in his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Katara eyeing him with her disapproving stare. He looked away. "Of course Mom, I'll just stick to the route," Sokka lied.

Kya sighed, seeming relieved. "That's all I ask for. Be careful out there, my little warrior." She hugged him goodbye, holding on to his false promise for assurance.

It was time to cast off.

In moments, Sokka was stepping up the gangplank, guards flanking him at every step. Once on the deck, the young Prince looked out over the dock, seeing his sister, mother, and friends waving him goodbye. All but one ignorant to his true mission. Sokka showed them his strongest face–burning eyes projecting confidence and purpose–before turning away and going below deck. After that, when Hawky had taken his place in the aviary, and the Prince broke away to shut himself alone in his chambers, Sokka finally let his shell crumble to pieces.

His father didn't show up.

The Prince yanked off his gloves, and replaced them with his newer armguards. But he paused, staring at the ugly skin underneath as the last words Ozai said to him played over and over again in his mind.

 _'Going on an expedition, are you? I hope you're not planning on using this as an opportunity to slack off from your job… Going to use the bird to keep us up to date? ...Good._

 _'Remember, Prince Sokka, your orders of secrecy extend beyond our borders as well. Your projects have been useful to us so far._

 _'I'd hate to have to lose you.'_

Come back with your alias intact, or don't come back at all.

Ozai hadn't even looked at him. Every day that passed, his father was drifting further and further away from him. All of his effort to bridge the gap falling apart. Sokka felt like he was metaphorically drifting out to an infinite sea, and Ozai was standing on an all too distant shoreline as he disappeared, watching inland.

That ended today. Prince's Sokka's hands tightened into fists, twinging uncomfortably.

Sokka wanted the old Ozai back. The one who taught him to paint, and looked at him like there was something like real strength in him. Not a child to be worried over, or a helpless invalid to be protected.

And he didn't want to be an object, made to churn out tools and weapons. He wanted his Dad.

Fancy toys and machines were not going to cut it if Sokka could change things. They weren't even close to the real prize. If Sokka had to offer up the Avatar to him, the Bridge Between Worlds, on a silver platter to win it all back...then that was what he was going to do.

And if he became a hero to his homeland in the process, well, that was just a bonus, wasn't it?

...


End file.
